


The Vespertine Stars

by sandy_s



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family, Football, Future Fic, Immortality, Magic, Missing Scene, Moon, Outer Space, Portals, Space Flight, Stars, Technology, Undercover, Undercover as a Couple, Vampire Buffy Summers (BtVS), Weather, sun - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 06:28:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15382704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandy_s/pseuds/sandy_s
Summary: Buffy journeys to LA to help in the final battle at the end of “Not Fade Away.” Spike saves her life at a cost, and humans can’t be in denial about the existence of demons and vampires anymore. The world is turned upside down and scientific advancements skyrocket…literally. Far in the future, Buffy and Spike are facing another apocalypse.Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss owns all.





	1. 2004

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yellowb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowb/gifts).



> Huge thank you to the wonderful yellowb for betaing the whole story! The beautiful banner is by OffYourBird! 
> 
> Written for the Sunnydale Fanfic Club July 2018 challenge, which involves stars and a football (say what?)! (I really angsted about this football. lol)
> 
> I started writing the story in May and finished it in July. There were originally 5000 words of a different version of this fic, but Spike was OOC, so that story went the way of the trashcan. 
> 
> (As an aside, this is sort of the story of how Spike and Buffy ended up where they did in Exquisite Consequences, but you don’t have to read that to get this. This is a totally different Spike and Buffy and totally different story.)

_vespertine (adj.) – 1) of, relating to, or occurring in the evening; 2) active, flowering, or flourishing in the evening._

_It ain’t over love_  
_This I swear_  
_We’re coming up for air_  
_It ain’t over yet_  
_The light’s right here_  
“Coming Up for Air,” Signals in Smoke

 

 _no more long goodbyes_  
_‘cause I’m staying right here by your side_  
“By Your Side,” Brooke Annabelle

 

 _Or will you sail on moth wings_  
_To the edges of the blue…_  
_To find the very moon and stars_  
_Are waiting just for you?_  
“Dream Animals,” Emily Winfield Martin

* * *

**2004**

_Her heart still beat._

_This she knew. She felt it thudding in a haphazard way, a bird with a broken wing in her chest._

_The ground beneath her body was hard and wet and warm, growing wetter and warmer with each flutter beneath her breast._

_Her eyelids were heavy like someone was dragging them down or gravity was making them too weighty to lift._

_Somehow, air entered and exited her lungs in shallow rasps._

_Pain was nonexistent despite the twisted rendering of her body._

_She’d been soaring before._

_The dance had been hers in the battle against the horde of dark creatures. She’d landed kicks and punches and twirled and leaped, sinking the blade of her ancient weapon into and through the bodies of demons from beyond._

_Her sisters had danced around her, going blindly into another hopeless battle with her; together, they’d soared._

_The energy of the battle had fueled her. That and the intense desire to find him._

_Now that she knew he was alive, she had to find him, and when she did, she planned to yell at him for not telling her, for not coming to her._

_Her heart had been broken yet again by his death. He wasn’t supposed to break her heart. It was already too bruised and battered to sustain another hit, another gaping wound._

_So, when the battle had raged on and on and she hadn’t found him, her hope had faltered – only for a moment, just a moment. She had let her guard down, for the briefest of moments, her foot going the wrong direction in the dance, her arm dipping too low._

_A creature with horns on his head and in a cascade over his shoulders and down his arms had slipped past. A claw had ripped her gut, and her voice had called out without sound over the cacophony of the battlefield._

_She didn’t remember the contact with the earth. All she’d known was darkness._

_When she’d woken, her mind somehow swimming and pushing back to the surface, everything around her was quiet. No battle sounds, no demon cries, no grunts or shouts of jubilation from her sisters._

_And there was only darkness, manmade light snuffed out._

_She wondered if she was in hell._

_So, she focused on the only thing she knew._

_Her heart was drumming, and her breath mingled with it to create a ragged, disharmonious tune._

_Time felt infinite as she waited for her body to give up for the third time._

_It was slower this time, dying this way, but somehow more comforting. At least she knew it was coming in measured steps. This was different than hurtling herself into oblivion or being at the mercy of evil while she wore her fancy party dress._

_She tried to remember more, but her brain had reached the place beyond thought where all that was knowable was that the licking heat beneath her was bad, and for some reason, she pictured a tree, its branches full and heavy with green leaves that were gently swaying in a breeze._

_Then, she heard something. . . a pounding and splashing that crescendoed progressively louder in her ears._

_A voice sailed over the sound of her breath. “I think I found her.”_

_Orange light flowed like a mini-sun over her eyelids._

_The voice rose. “It’s her! Spike, it’s her!”_

_More pounding._

_There was a rush of air, and she felt the dead weight of her body being pulled away from the grip of gravity and the suction of her life force on the ground._

_A second voice, a familiar deep one, swept over her mind and warm fingers grasped her arms. “Her heart’s still beating. I hear it. Oh, god. She’s not going to make it. There’s too much blood.”_

_Was it him? He was here, he was here, he was here. She’d found him. This realization allowed her body to scrounge up its remaining energy, and somehow, she moved. Somehow, she defied the odds one last time, and her eyelids lifted._

_The orange glow illuminated his blood-streaked face, the concave of his familiar cheek, the lightness of his eyes, the shock of his bleached hair. Her mind wept tears of joy though she couldn’t express it. And she was mad at herself because there was no way to yell at him now. All her vim had gone with the opening of her eyes._

_“Buffy, love. Stay with me. We have to get you help. Red, is there nothing you can do?”_

_“She needs a hospital.”_

_“There are no sodding hospitals left. In case you haven’t noticed, the city of angels is a wasteland. There’s got to be something you can do.” The slippery fingers of desperation slid through his words._

_“We promised her. Never again.”_

_“I-I know. God, I was so stupid. So stupid.” He buried his face in her hair, and she vaguely worried that it couldn’t smell good, not Doublemeat bad, but demon-guts bad._

_Her body shivered without her permission, and he lifted his head again. Wet salty paths had joined the red ones on his skin, physical pain mixed with love and sorrow. She had to tell him somehow. She didn’t want to lose him again._

_A cough escaped her lips first, a stumbling wet noise that tripped over her lips in clumsy fashion, and then, somehow words tumbled out as air left her lungs. “No die. Not d-done with. . . y-you.” She tried to infuse her eyes with fire, but the heat was all on the ground, far away._

_And then, he got it. Somehow, he did, and she was relieved that once again, he knew her, read her mind in that usual annoying way of his. “You want me to turn you? God, pet, I don’t think so. I dunno.”_

_Irritation asserted itself, pushing its enthusiastic fist past the lure of darkness. “Wil help.”_

_“Will help? What’s she saying?” The witch sounded frantic. “And what does she mean? She wants you to turn her?”_

_“Quiet, Red,” he growled, not angry, just firm. His eyes were wide and clear and full of love. And they were searching hers. “You’re sure, aren’t you?” He waited, but she couldn’t. There was nothing left with which to respond. “All right then.” He looked away, and she felt the loss again. “Can you help?”_

_“H-help how? I did when I was darkest me, but then, I was focused and pissed off and not tapped out. Oh, god. H-her intestines are hanging out, and I can’t reinsert blood from the ground into her veins.”_

_“Not that. Her soul. Can you anchor her soul?”_

_“I-I can try.”_

_“Do it.” At his words, her eyes fell closed like a heavy door she could no longer force open, but his final words reignited her hope. “I got you, love. We’re going to do this. I can’t give you the sun, but I can give you the stars. Just don’t dust me when you wake up.”_

_No promises, she thought._


	2. Present day

**Present day**

Buffy fidgeted with impatience while the customs official scanned her body. The familiar blue light swept over her body, searching for illegal weapons, substances beyond what was in her profile to carry, and her reason for being here and now.

 

“Scan complete,” the computer intoned, sounding slightly breathless and hopeful. A handful of seconds later, a light above Buffy’s head transformed from yellow to lavender. “Scan clear. Welcome to Earth Moon, Colony Five.”

 

Buffy was moving before the clear doors slid open, and she snatched her bag from the startled demon, his wide yellow eyes, slim form and hesitant body language briefly making her wonder why he was the customs guard. 

 

“Enjoy your stay, Ms. Vega!” he called after her.

 

Pulling the straps of her bag over her shoulders, she slung back an excessively perky, “Thank you!” 

 

Colony Five was the leisure dome with bars, coffee shops, restaurants, spas, gyms, swimming pools, an amusement park, art galleries, auction houses, movie theaters, an actual theater, and even a sports stadium, along with a variety of places to stay and sleep before the next day of fun. The hallways between activities were wide and colored in muted blues, greens, and silver, the ceiling high above stretched over everything in a clear dome which offered a generous view of the stars and other celestial bodies. 

 

Buffy had been here twice, once when she went on an all-girls trip with her best friend and her sister. They’d haunted the spa, relishing treatments and massages and yoga under the stars with goats. The food had been delicious, and she’d let herself try things she might never ever have, including fried goose blood and raw oysters with bottles of the spiciest sauce. The second time had been with him, and that had been a different kind of trip all together, the kind of trip she was determined to have again with him. 

 

But today wasn’t about vacation. Buffy was on a mission and that mission required her to be focused and to do something totally out of her comfort zone: acting.

 

Her boots clumping in a rapid staccato over the marble floors, Buffy dodged around groups of demons, humans, and the occasional vampire. Normally, she’d follow a vampire to see where he or she was going and what nefarious plans he or she might have. Buffy wasn’t sure why she did it, perhaps a vestige of a long-ago life. It wasn’t her job to dust them all anymore, not since the demons came out of the shadows to live among humankind. 

 

She ducked down a side hallway, her internal computer’s map providing her with a shortcut to the monorail instead of a relaxing stroll. She hated that the computer could read her feelings, could adjust its “helpful” functions based on changes in her body chemistry and muscle tension. Most of the time, she kept the feature firmly in the “off” position, but her sister had insisted that if Buffy was going undercover, she had to use it.

 

The hall was empty and closed in. Buffy decided that the narrow space was most likely one used by staff because there were several closed doors with names of places. Each door was also marked with a flat computer screen indicating what supplies were inside. 

 

Her footsteps echoing, Buffy bit her lip and tapped her right ear. There was a soft beep and then the feeling of the connection. _Willow? Are you there?_

 

 _Buffy? Are you okay?_ Willow sounded more than a little worried, and though this whole mission was making everyone twitchy, Buffy sensed that there was something more to it for her friend – something that had been building for a long time. The latest wrench in their plans heightened the danger even more. _How was the trip?_

 

 _I’m fine. I made it in good time._ Buffy chewed on the inside of her cheek and ducked her head as she passed a young female demon with long curling horns atop her head and baby pink skin. _Are you sure I can do this? I’ve never been good at undercover. Even when I was a waitress in LA trying to hide from the world, I was outed._

 

 _You got this. You practiced all your specs enough. I seem to recall your sister keeping you up all night until you wanted to strangle her._

 

Buffy laughed in her brain. She marveled that it still sounded like real laughing and not brain-laughing. She vaguely wondered if other people laughed in their heads even if they didn’t out loud. _What sister? I don’t have any siblings. All my family members are long dead._

 

 _Good one. Tell me more._

 

 _My name is Helene Vega. I was turned in 2004 during the huge battle in L.A., which makes me two hundred this year. Two hundred? I can’t believe it. Holy crap, I’m old._ Buffy realized what she’d done. _Crap. I messed up. I’m never going to be able to do this._

 

Willow’s tone was encouraging. _No, no. That’s good. While you need to know your history, you also have to be yourself or you’ll be way too obv. Keep going._

 

 _I don’t know who sired me. I don’t like drinking the crap that the world government sanctions for vampires, which is totally true. It has an aftertaste that real blood doesn’t have. Reminds me of artificial sweetener. Blech._ Real blood was expensive though. She made do with sinking her fangs into something much tastier after she ate or went on the occasional patrol. Oh, the good ole days when she strolled around small town Sunnydale cemeteries at two in the morning, searching for fresh graves and twirling her stake. 

 

 _I’m still working on a way to fix that. Not for profit. To help you and Spike._ Willow had tried a few things, but so far, none had worked. She wasn’t giving up. Buffy was the recipient of a new attempt every year for her birthday.

 

 _And that is why I love you._ Buffy found the door to what her map showed was a monorail station, and she flung it open. _Fuck._

 

 _What’s wrong?_ Willow sounded alarmed.

 

The station was jam-packed with even more people than the corridor from the docking area to the heart of the colony. There were demons and humans of all shapes, sizes, and colors, their voices pinging around the cavernous space as they guided floating baggage carts or stood in line at the food carts or darted in and out of the bathrooms. Buffy stepped over the five legs of a lime-colored demon, who was sleeping in one of the many seats dotting the way to the monorail, which was pulling up. _This place is crowded. Why is it so crowded today of all days? How am I supposed to find this Abbadon? Stupid needle in a haystack._

 

_It’s the football playoffs. That’s why. The game’s being played at the stadium today. There will be other stars there. . . not literal stars. Celebrities. Which means more interest from fans and more security. And you’re not looking for Abbadon himself. You’re looking for his messenger, who will then take you to him. You have your ticket, right?_

 

 _For the monorail? Yeah._ Thank goodness not the football game. Buffy pulled the ticket up in her mind and downloaded it to the scan pad in her bag while sidestepping a trail of chirruping dog-like demons. 

 

 _Perfect. Stay calm and take the ride to the bar. That’s where the messenger will be waiting. No idea what he looks like, but you should be able to figure it out. He’ll probably be the only vampire there, present company excluded._

 

 _The Moon Saloon? Whoever came up with that should win the creativity award._ Buffy considered that no self-respecting vampire would be caught dead in a saloon except maybe those cowboy vampires who’d visited the Hellmouth a couple of times. She couldn’t remember their names, but she knew that one was still at large.

 

Willow laughed. _I think you’ll be even more amused when you see it. Don’t pull up the site. Let it be a surprise._

 

 _Oh boy. Do I really need surprises? I’d like a no-surprise-the-thing-to-do-is-obvious mission._ Buffy paused near a coffee cart to pull out her scan pad for the monorail. _No one’s heard from Spike?_ She knew the answer but had to ask, and Willow was always patient no matter how many times Buffy had asked in the past two days since he missed his check in.

 

_Nothing. You’ll be the first to know if there’s any word. Promise._

 

 _Thanks, Wil._ Buffy’s stomach clenched with fear. He better not be dead. . . well, all the way dead. She still wasn’t done with him. She didn’t know if she ever would be. All she knew was that she loved him, he was missing, and she was determined to find him. This was the first time they’d been apart since that year he’d been in L.A., and still, somehow, they’d found each other in the destruction of the city. 

 

 _I wish I had better news._ Willow was silent for a long while as if to let Buffy have her feelings. _Once you enter the bar, remember that I have to sign off. If they caught us talking, you and Spike would be toast._

 

 _And the mission would be lost._ At this point, Buffy needed to see Spike. . . to touch him. He had to be okay, or she was going to kick his butt. After kissing him until he couldn’t see straight, of course. 

 

Buffy got in line for the monorail, waiting with impatience again, in the line of people scanning their pads to board. Her internal computer chimed, offering a twisty path through the crowd to a shorter line. Without much thought, she followed it.

 

 _The world. . . worlds as we know it would be lost._ Willow added grimly and with that same tinge of something Buffy picked up on earlier. She just couldn’t put a finger on what it was.

 

 _Radio silence is needed. Right._ Buffy knew the gravity of the mission, and she wished beyond everything that she didn’t have to do this alone. Nowadays, she was used to having access to someone in her ear when she was on the wobbly tightrope of danger. Granted, she didn’t use the safety net all that much, but it was nice to know it was there. Another worry zinged through her chest. _The other technology is undetectable though?_

 

 _Perfectly undetectable._ Willow’s tone was confident. This was her area of expertise, mixing magic and technology. _You look nothing like Buffy Summers. Well, you’re the same size as Buffy. But you have dark hair instead of blonde, and you’re darker complected. Think olive skin with freckles. Light brown eyes. And no one will be able to tell you have your soul._

 

 _But Spike will know who I am._ Buffy had no doubt about that. After over two hundred years together, he’d know her anywhere. He always knew when she came for him.


	3. 2003

**2003**

 

_Neither of them spoke._

_The night around them was black. . . blacker than the cave had been with the warm glow of the torches – torches that lit his torture chamber._

_She was so relieved to have him pulled flush against her, limping and bruised and whole as she was, that she almost forgot all that had transpired between them in the last year._

_Her mind traipsed back further to the time when he was equally battered, and she was pretending to be someone. . . something else._

_Only her mother was dead. Her own corpse wasn’t yet rotting in a grave. . .no ashes to ashes and dust to dust._

_Instead, their kiss had been so simple, chaste even, and he was real and whole and loved her then. She just didn’t want to see that love, couldn’t look directly at it because she might have to admit to herself that she saw something in him. . . something that was worth fighting for, something that became clouded with the veil of her own depression when she was torn out of her peace._

_Tightening her arm around his waist as he leaned more on her, they clumped over the grass and out from the cover of trees. The car-less road was suddenly there, solid and concrete beneath their feet._

_He hesitated at the edge of the trail back to the reality of the war and dying girls and logical, tough choices, not rescues that were deemed whimsical by every single one of those who waited for her. She didn’t want to go. Not yet._

_Instead, she let her eyes follow the path of his gaze as he looked up at the night sky, vast and dark and high above them._

_“What is it?” Her words were for just the two of them and no one else, here in this quiet place outside of town._

_“Wasn’t sure I’d see them again.” His voice was scratchy, and he coughed at the tail end, almost – but not quite – disguising the awe._

_“What?” Her question was only curious, not urgent or impatient. She was here with him now. This was real._

_“The stars.”_

_The multitude of heavenly bodies was brilliant without the dampening of tree cover or manmade lanterns._

_“Well, here you are,” she teased softly. “Stars a-plenty.”_

_“T-they make me feel. . . human again.” He shivered next to her but not from cold. The night was warm and thick with rare humidity._

_She was all about understanding nowadays, especially with him, maybe only with him. This war made her brain all confused. Was she friend, family, soldier, or general? She had no idea. All she knew that she was Buffy when she was with him. It had been that way for a long time now. She surveyed the tiny lights above. There were so many of them. “What do you mean?”_

_“The universe is so b-big. There are planets around each of those stars with possible lifeforms on them. Makes me feel like a small boy again.”_

_“Gazing at the stars?”_

_He hugged her shoulders, almost like he was on a date with her rather than borrowing her strength for support. It felt right, standing here with him. “Yeah.”_

_For the briefest of moments, she felt what he felt, she felt his wonder and love. “That’s beautiful.” When she finally lowered her head, she discovered that his non-swollen eye was bright and focused on her. There was so much feeling there, she swore she might be able to touch it. “What?” she asked again._

_“You believe in me.” He sounded so young, so full of hope, a stark contrast to the night in the church when his words had been a jumbled, painful riddle._

_Though there were still many emotions associated with him that she had yet to sort out, she could verify her faith in him without hesitation. “I believe in you.” To her surprise, she also knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would always come for him._

_“Thank you.” There were many layers to his gratitude beyond the two simple words. A tear meandered down his cheek._

_She reached up and gently brushed it away. “You’re welcome.”_


	4. Present day

**Present day**

 

Buffy’s cheek was raw from chewing, and she could taste the tang of blood on her tongue as she stepped off the train. Willow had signed off just before the monorail arrived at its destination, and Buffy already felt lost even though she knew where she was going. 

 

The Moon Saloon was just around the corner from the monorail stop and was conveniently located near the football stadium, but she had no idea what to expect next. She narrowed her eyes. She just had to find the messenger Abbadon was sending. 

 

Buffy dodged and slipped around more people, only this time humans and demons alike were wearing one of two sets of colors: red and white for the White Rhinos and gold and orange for the Saber Panthers. She didn’t know much about either team, but there was an energy in the air that set her more on edge. Her vampire and residual Slayer senses were on high alert. 

 

She was keenly aware of the enthusiastic guffaws and hollers of a group of Grappler demons and of the rapid heartrates of the humans. A fierce-looking goat-like demon swept a small human child high in the air to reach a banner that she wanted at one of the carts selling souvenirs. She shrieked with joy, and her parents watched on with smiles on their faces. A cluster of teenaged demons with lime green skin and bright scarlet horns jostled one another and eagerly hurried past her, tossing bits of conversation at one another in a kind of odd harmony. 

 

The smells of everything and everyone were hard to parse apart, the sweat, blood, and pheromones overwhelming. 

 

The good news was that the side walkway to the Moon Saloon was empty, quiet, and breathtaking, which was a nice balm for her hyper-alert senses. 

 

In stark contrast to the deserted staff hallway, this one had high clear ceilings and walls, and even the floor beneath her feet was translucent, the seams between each plane of the structure around her almost invisible. She felt like she was walking in space without a suit, the rocky surface of the moon all around her, the domes of the different colonies in the distance on her left, the stadium tall and wide to her right. Not too far ahead, she could vaguely see the entrance to what she assumed was the saloon. 

 

But that wasn’t what made Buffy’s mouth drop open in awe. 

 

Above her were what had to be billions of stars, pinpricking the darkness above her in a beautiful sea of brilliance. As she took one slow step after another, all she could do was stare up, her mouth agape as she realized how small she was and how vast the universe was. She could stay here and luxuriate in the wonder for hours. She was half-tempted to lay down where she was and get lost in the beauty. 

 

The stars reminded her of Spike. . . Spike, who needed her.

 

Buffy shook her head. She had to keep going. 

 

She forced her gaze down and focused on the entrance ahead. As she approached, she would have laughed and loudly if her situation was less critical. 

 

Straight out of an old John Wayne movie, the doors to the saloon were the wooden, swingy kind with the little slats. . . in the middle of outer space. 

 

A giggle slipped past her lips before she could stop it. The sound made her realize again that she couldn’t get caught up in the stars or saloon doors. She needed to focus. Her teeth rediscovered her cheek and worried with it. She squared her shoulders and held her head high. She was still a Slayer. She could face anything.

 

Her hand automatically went up as she reached the door, her hand caressing the smooth curve of the wood. Pushing into the saloon, she was immediately immersed into a world straight out of the old West. There was a demon playing a jaunty tune on the piano in one corner, a long wooden bar with intricate carvings straight ahead, and a hodgepodge of antique wooden chairs and tables. The ceiling was rounded and offered a clear view of the stars, and a spiral staircase in the back corner led up to a catwalk and balcony above with more seating. A bull-shaped demon with thick curled horns manned the bar, and there were no other customers save one. . . Spike. 

 

He was on a stool at the bar, his back to her, but she knew his form anywhere, his shock of still bleached hair and his leather-clad shoulders; the coat was a gift from her last Christmas. It took everything in her not to run forward and throw her arms around him. Thank god, he wasn’t dust. Thank god, thank god, thank god. 

 

Instead, she stalked forward with a slowness that probably looked way obvious because every few steps or so, she had to force herself to put the brakes on. When she reached him, she stood there for a moment too long, and she was relieved when he dragged a stool out beside him in invitation. Did he recognize her? She had no idea.

 

She pulled herself up on the high seat, hooking the heels of her boots on the middle rung. Resting her forearms on the smooth wooden surface of the bar, she emulated his stance of staring forward. The bull demon was busy polishing glasses at the far end and didn’t seem to notice her. Bully for him. 

 

Spike spoke so low that she almost couldn’t hear him. “In a few seconds, I need you to punch me like you mean it.”

 

Buffy frowned, her eyebrows drawing together. “What?” She hadn’t hit him out of anger in forever. Sparring didn’t count.

 

“That’s it, pet.” He ran a thumb over the condensation on his whisky glass, and she longed for him to touch her. “Keep the brassed off expression and give it me good.”

 

She tried to ramp up her confusion to sound reasonably irritated. “What the fuck. . . Pulan?” At the last second, she remembered his undercover name. It sounded strange coming out of her mouth even though that was another thing Dawn made her practice while looking at Spike’s image.

 

He shifted into full vampire guise, fangs descending, ridges wrinkling his forehead, eyes glowing golden. Then, he glared at her, anger and frustration and. . . contempt that she hadn’t seen in his eyes in decades, and fear made something flip inside of her. Her fist balled and her arm drew back before she could think, and she swung, her knuckles connecting with his cheekbone so hard that he flew off the stool and landed on the ground in a heap. 

 

He leaped to his feet while grinning at her and staggered back to gain his footing. “That’s it, love. There you are.” 

 

Buffy searched his face for some hint that this was all a ruse or bluff, but his yellow eyes were harder to read than his blue ones even after all this time together. If her heart beat, it would have skipped as she realized that maybe that was the point. “Where else would I be?” Well, that sounded lame. She had no idea what the game was here, but she honestly felt half a step behind, and her attempts to do what he wanted her to do were fake-sounding. . . like a bad actor reciting lines. She tried again. Before she left Earth, Dawn had told her that the key to lying was to stick close to the truth. So, Buffy did, channeling her inner Slayer. “The better question is: where the hell have you been?” 

 

Spike’s chin rose just a fraction and came down. A nod. She was on the right track. 

 

The bull raised his head in a nonchalant way. “Need help there, Pulan?”

 

Keeping his eyes on her, Spike turned his head and called over his shoulder, “Nah. Helene here is just a bit brassed off because I left her high and dry a couple of decades ago. Chit fell in love with me.” 

 

The bull demon chuckled and resumed cleaning glasses. “That’ll do it.”

 

“What she didn’t know is that I fell in love with her.”

 

Buffy was thrown. Okay. Now, what was he doing? He obviously recognized her despite her change in skin tone and eye color – features Willow had only recently added, or he wouldn’t have called her Helene. She was confused, but she trusted him without reservation. “Y-you fell in love?”

 

“Yeah.” His features changed again, melting away to reveal the gentle blue depths of his eyes. Relief washed over her. Her world wasn’t reversed on its axis anymore. “I did. Sorry about that, pet. I had reasons for leaving.” 

 

“That you’ll explain soon, right?” Her question still had a double meaning, but she was hesitant to take a step forward.

 

“Of course.” He crossed the distance between them, and she saw then how much he’d been longing to do it the whole time. 

 

Her internal computer nudged her to move forward, but she flicked it off with a thought. Instead, she forced herself to wait and not meet him halfway. She couldn’t remember a time when they weren’t touching, not after all this time, and six months apart was too long. When his fingers caressed her cheek, her entire body relaxed, tension unfurling in muscles that she didn’t realize were tight. His lips were millimeters from hers, and surely this was a reasonable distance to traverse, so she surged forward to feel the familiar slip of his soft lips over hers. Her desire woke then as if it had been asleep since he’d been gone – six months was really too long, and she fell into his embrace, sweeping her arms under his jacket and around his back. He moaned a little as she touched him, and as she deepened the kiss, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her forward until nothing was between them except for bits of cloth. 

 

She could have stayed that way forever, lost in sensation and relief at the homecoming, but he drew back – not all the way; she wouldn’t have stood for that. She blinked at him, waiting for his next cue. 

 

“I love you, pet,” he murmured so low that only they could have heard the sound. 

 

“I love you,” she whispered back. 

 

Then, he spoke with more volume, “You’re looking for Abbadon.”

 

She sighed in resignation. This part, she had down. She said a silent thanks to her little sister. “I am. I have important information from our faction.”

 

“You’re in luck. He’s here.”

 

“Here? Where?” Buffy glanced around, stepping away from him with reluctance. The bar was still empty except for the two demon workers, who seemed to be ignoring them. 

 

The corner of Spike’s mouth quirked up. “At the game.”

 

“The football game?” That was just great. More crowds to distract her jittery mind and mess her up. She should probably start rehearsing in her head now. 

 

“He’s very into his sports. The bloodier, the better. Know anything about football?” 

 

“N-no. Well, very little. I had a boyfriend once who liked to watch. He and my other guy friend watched lots of games at my house.” This much was true. Riley and Xander had spent several Sundays watching football together on her sofa while she, her sister, her mother, and various groupings of her other friends spent time gossiping or doing other girly things like painting nails and trying out face masks. 

 

Spike rolled his eyes at her. “Captain Cornfield, no doubt, knew all about the game.”

 

Buffy pushed her mouth to one side in amusement; she loved that he still got jealous even though Riley was long dead. “He did.”

 

“Did you pay attention?” He lifted an eyebrow.

 

“Sorta. Someone throws a football. Another someone catches it and runs for the end zone to score points.” She remembered that much from being a cheerleader. She also remembered that she deflated the ball on the beach when she and Riley were throwing it back and forth. Football really wasn’t her thing, and she darn well knew it wasn’t Spike’s – not the American version of football anyway. 

 

“Right. Well, it’s a little different now,” he said in a goading tone. “Since demons came out of the proverbial closet.”

 

“I know that.” So much had changed since that battle in L.A. in 2004. Demons and vampires had had no choice but to become public. Humans had initially been freaked, but after several years, things had settled into a nice rhythm with demons and humans living together in relative harmony. There’d been only a few skirmishes and almost an all-out war over segregation, but that had been resolved over a century ago. Good things had come of the revelation that demons and vampires lived among humans, including a billionaire or three pushing for technological advancements and funding the space program beyond what it’d ever been funded before. That was the reason there were now colonies on the moon and a beta colony on Mars. The extra space – no pun intended – and the freedom to travel there seemed to calm a lot of strains among groups.

 

“Do you really?” He knew very well that she didn’t. 

 

“Maybe you should explain on the way.” 

 

He picked up her arm, tracing his fingers over her elbow and down her forearm before lacing his fingers with hers. “I can do that.”

 

Together, they exited the saloon doors, the stars paving the way to the next part of their journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to swifthorse for the billionaire idea!


	5. 2064

**2064**

 

_Death had come again._

_It wasn’t like she didn’t expect the grim reaper’s knock on her door, but still, her heart ached from the loss of him, a friend she never expected to lose. She always knew she’d go first, and she had, but he’d brought her back – more than once. His death, even now, felt. . . wrong._

_She couldn’t imagine what her little sister must be going through._

_She found Dawn perched next to his coffin, the lid raised up. Her long hair was a fan of shiny darkness over her shoulder – long like he liked, and her legs were crossed at her bare ankles. One hand draped over the edge of the wood before her._

_She smelled Dawn’s tears and heard the small hiccups – the vestiges of a gut-wrenching bout of sobs. Despite the pieces of her dying inside, her sister’s heartbeat was strong and steady, beating with the rhythmic assertion that yes, she was alive._

_Words could close no wounds, so she sailed the gulf, sitting next to her sister and slipping a slender, cool arm around her warmer shoulders._

_Dawn sighed and gazed into the casket. The Slayer turned vampire had no choice but to peer at him, too._

_The person laying there was grey and bearded, the bright spark of his brown eyes hidden by death’s veil. She stared, tracing his features with her mind, trying to remember what he looked like in youth. She had photos and images in her internal computer, but she refused to bring them up now. It felt too morbid. Instead, she conjured up the feel of his arms around her, his brotherly bear hugs still some of the best she’d ever had. She smiled at the memory of hugging him in his puffy suit after she’d used him as a moving, talking punching bag._

_“He’s like my right arm,” Dawn whispered, her voice weighted with sorrow. “What do you do when you don’t have your right arm anymore?”_

_“Learn to write with your left?” she asked half in jest. It seemed like a Xander thing to say._

_Dawn laughed. “Maybe. He was always joking about the dying thing. About how he’d go first, about how he was aging and I wasn’t. He thought it was funny that people thought I was his granddaughter. I just wanted to punch them or kick them in the shin, preferably with a pointy shoe.”_

_“You should have.” She would have done it herself if she’d witnessed such judgment._

_Her sister’s blue eyes were earnest in their roundness. “I did growl at them a time or two. He’d tease me about it later.”_

_“Good,” and then, “How’s Josie?”_

_Dawn’s daughter was the spitting image of Joyce and had Xander’s big heart and goofy sense of humor. Xander had been sixty years old when Dawn had decided that she wanted to be a mother if she was destined to look twenty-five forever. He’d taken some convincing, but he’d given in at last when she cried about how he was going to die and leave her all alone._

_“She’s devastated. Her dad is. . . was her hero. She’s angry that I get to be. . . whatever I am and she has to lose her father.” A little laugh bubbled past Dawn’s lips._

_She made a face, feeling the need to defend her sister. “That doesn’t make sense. She loves you and Xander equally.”_

_“Who said grief was logical? I know she does. I just wish I could please her and age properly.”_

_“I’m glad you’re still here. With me for eternity.”_

_Long ago when they finally noticed that Dawn had stopped aging, Giles and Willow had determined that she, being an ancient mystical key and fashioned from the Slayer, had somehow drawn the immortality card. This hadn’t fazed Xander, who loved with impunity, as he always loved._

_“I am, too.” His British accent was deep and heavy with emotion from the doorway behind them._

_Her sister stood with coltish abruptness, and he crossed the room in long strides, scooping her into his arms as her tears flowed fresh and salty and hot._

_“Spike. You’re here,” Dawn managed, her voice muffled against the leather of his duster._

_“Where else would I be, lil Bit?” He tilted his head so that his cheek rested on the crown of her head._

_She sniffed, an insecure teenager again. “I dunno. Buffy said you didn’t know if you could make it in time.”_

_He’d been halfway across the world for another round of negotiations with an amenable group of vampires, and she was supposed to join him, but at the last minute, her sister needed her._

_“You know I’d move mountains for you and big sis. This. . . this is nothing.”_

_Dawn hugged him with sudden ferocity. “Not nothing. Thank you.” She disentangled herself from him and edged back, her hand returning to the casket and their reason for being there. “Say ‘hello’ to Buffy,” she commanded of the vampire._

_He laughed. “Hello, pet.”_

_She smiled up at him. “Hi. Glad you made it.” She tugged him down on the bench next to her, wanting to snuggle close but mindful of her sister’s recent loss. Instead, she tucked her hand in his._

_They sat in silence, out of respect for the man who had brought them together. They’d share stories later after the funeral and over fried chicken when Willow joined them. Xander had made them promise to tell stories. . . the good ones that made them laugh. He’d said he wanted to be the star of his own show one last time._

_“You know?” Dawn kept her eyes on her husband. “I keep thinking about what Giles told me.”_

_Her forehead wrinkled as she tried to think what her sister could be referring to. There were too many things Giles had said. “What did he tell you? And when?”_

_“It was right after I. . . we figured out that I was probably going to live a very long time.” Her face twisted up, and tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them back, unfurling the feelings, folding them neatly up, and tucking them away. “He said that someday when I was ready, I should sort out what my powers could do. He said I should do it not because they could potentially be used for good, but for me. So I’d know what I am capable of. I-I think I dismissed what he said because I didn’t care at that point.” She gazed at Xander. “I had everything I wanted. Everything I needed.”_

_“Where’re you going with this, pigeon?”_

_Dawn faced them both, her mouth firm and her eyes glinting. “I’m ready now. Will you help me?”_

_“Dawnie. Of course. That’s not even a question you have to ask.”_


	6. Present day

**Present day**

 

The moon’s football stadium rivaled any sports stadium on Earth. Stands jutted up for what seemed like hundreds of rows, and Buffy wondered how anyone in the nosebleed section could possibly see anything. The players probably looked like ants down below. 

 

The scoreboard showed that the score was 14 to 10 with the White Rhinos in the lead. Buffy thought that some of the players on the White Rhino team looked like actual rhinos with giant horns pushing up out of their skulls. None of the players wore helmets. Cheerleaders consisted of not just male and female humans but demons of all shapes, sizes, and colors, and boy, could that one demon with the huge arms throw his (or was it her?) partner high. Music blasted through speakers between plays, the piercing referee whistles were loud and insistent, and food and drink vendors snaked up and down the steps with large floating trays of refreshments. 

 

Spike hadn’t let go of her hand since the saloon, his fingers interlocking with hers. Part of her longed for him to pull her back under the stadium, away from the sea of screaming fans, bright lights, and multitude of smells (and she’d thought the monorail station smelled bad). She longed to feel more than just his hand touching hers; she needed his whole body. No one would notice a thing because they were too absorbed in the madness below.

 

“Where are we going?” she shouted at him, her voice seeming to float off into the stadium’s cacophony. Lucky for them, they both had vampire hearing.

 

A human boy darted around them, jarring Buffy, and her stomach rumbled, doing a somersault to remind her that she needed to eat. A herd of other kids streamed after him in a rushing river of human arteries, and now two desires were majorly unfulfilled. 

 

“We’re headed for the viewing box. Abbadon prefers to focus on the game and not the fans. Pet, when’s the last time you ate?” 

 

“Soon enough that I shouldn’t be all rumbly. Sorry.” Was he ignoring how much she wanted him? She considered that this was probably a good idea given the circumstances.

 

“There’ll be blood in the box.” His tone didn’t sound all that encouraging.

 

“Oh, goodie. What kind?”

 

He confirmed her suspicions around the earsplitting screams of an exuberant and angry Saber Panther fan. “You can’t touch it. Promise me.”

 

“I won’t.” She squeezed his hand.

 

“Abbadon likes to put holy water in the blood. If he doesn’t like you or you irritate him or you’re no longer useful to him or sometimes just on some sodding whim – ”

 

“He offers you the dusty kind?” Buffy asked a little too brightly.

 

“Yeah.” He lifted an eyebrow at her. “Seen him do it a number of times.”

 

“Best not to drink.” She thought of Kralik and shuddered. Ingesting holy water seemed like a painful way to die.

 

“Yeah.”

 

He tried to guide them past the stream of kids who had stopped to eat their Mars rocks candy and were gleefully giggling as their cheeks turned from red to pink to orange to yellow and back again. They were like pop rocks of old except with fizzy colors. Giles’s great-granddaughter still got a kick out of them, and on the rare occasion when Dawn babysat her, they took all kinds of silly photos and shot them off to everyone’s mind computer.

 

Spike halted when one of the kids did a sideways dance one way and then the other, blocking their path. He growled at the boy, and the boy half-giggled and half-gulped in fear, hopping out of the way. 

 

Spike surged forth, and no one else challenged his forward motion. They either stepped out of the way or took a different route. Buffy was amused that even in a world where demons and vampires were commonplace, Spike commanded attention and respect. 

 

Several minutes later as the Saber Panthers scored and the stridency of the crowd swelled, Spike ducked down a side hall that led to a small set of stairs that brought them to a private box entrance. 

 

Pausing and tapping his ear, Spike said, “It’s Pulan.” He paused. “Yes, I have her.”

 

The door dissipated, and Buffy expected Spike to let go of her hand, but he didn’t. He tightened his grip on her fingers, and she squeezed back. She was in this with him and followed his lead, his strength reminding her to stay calm and be herself. The door reappeared behind them as they entered. 

 

A long marble staircase stretched up above them with landings along the way. Buffy felt like they were climbing forever. As they drew closer to the box, she heard the sound of the game, which was just as loud as in the stadium even though they were in a closed-in space. As they finally stepped into the viewing space, she counted five black-clad vampires in the room, not including this Abbadon character. They were all male, had matching bleached-blonde, slicked back hairstyles, and wore leather jackets. All stood, staring straight ahead with their hands behind their backs like soldiers. Huh. Weird. 

 

The private box had a small kitchen in the back and a table with chairs. Over the table, there were carafes of what smelled like blood staying heated atop floating warmers. (Buffy and Spike had one at home, and though theirs didn’t float, it did keep the synthetic blood the ideal human temperature.) To the front of the box, a protective clear window took up the whole wall, offering a bird’s eye view of the stadium. Larger videos of the plays were embedded in the glass, and Buffy had no doubt that they could stay in the background or be enlarged at the viewer’s discretion. Three leather recliners were situated close to the glass, and only one was occupied by a much slighter figure than Buffy was expecting from someone whose name meant “destruction.” 

 

One of the clone-vampires took several steps toward them and motioned them toward the empty recliners. Spike nodded at the vamp and guided Buffy in front of him, still not releasing her hand until she was taking the middle recliner, the leather soft and supple beneath her fingers. 

 

Her every sense was heightened as she watched Abbadon, who was studying the game before them. He was a middle-aged gentleman when he was turned. He was slim and wore a grey suit, and his legs were crossed at the knee. His hair was a mousy brown color, his face skinny and narrow beneath as if it had been slightly flattened. Buffy decided that he looked a bit like a rat. He didn’t feel like a terribly old vampire, but she’d never been good at assessing that. She wondered how he came by the name of Abbadon because he was hardly what she’d imagined.

 

They were so close to the clear glass that it almost felt like they were sitting on the edge of a cliff over which they could tumble any second and plummet to the field below. She had no earthly idea why anyone would want a private box so high in the stadium, but she could see other private boxes nearby and across the way. 

 

“You’re probably wondering why I prefer a box so high above the game everyone purportedly wants to watch.” His voice was a little too smooth, almost like he was trying hard to draw her in. 

 

The words popped out before she could stop them. “I was. How’d you guess?” She hoped her enthusiasm didn’t sound too forced because every instinct was insisting that she get away from this guy.

 

“I’m good at reading people,” he said as if this were obvious. 

 

“I guess you are,” she said with a smile, making eye contact. His blue eyes were lighter than Spike’s but cold, so cold. Like a snake’s eyes. She forced herself not to shiver. 

 

“I like it because there’s power in being up here close to the stars. The game doesn’t matter. What matters is being above all the people salivating over who wins or loses below. They’ll never know what really matters in life. There will always be people like me, watching and waiting to pick them off one by one. Like fish in a barrel.” He mimed shooting a shotgun at the crowd who was still cheering and screaming. Then, as if bored, he sighed and touched the glass, silencing the spectacle before them.

 

“Until you have all the toys?” Buffy was used to enemies like this – the ones who blew themselves up to feel more powerful when they really had very little. 

 

Abbadon nodded toward Spike. “She’s good, Pulan. But that’s not quite right. I don’t care about toys. I just care about – ” 

 

“Control,” Buffy amended and then immediately regretted the interruption. 

 

“Right.” He smiled at her and winked like they were best pals. They were so not pals.

 

“Is that why all your minions look alike?” 

 

He laughed, a short barking laugh. “That’s not my doing. Shireen gets whimsical at times. She liked Pulan’s look and had all her officers emulate him. We prefer to use the term ‘officers’ to ‘minions.’” He leaned conspiratorially toward her, and Buffy forced herself not to draw away. “Makes them feel important. That’s the key to earning loyalty. That and exercising your control when necessary.” He sat back and folded his hands on his lap. “Or even sometimes when it’s not necessary.” 

 

“Or even then,” Buffy said in affirmation while gagging a little in her head. 

 

Abbadon narrowed his eyes at Buffy and then at Spike. “You two know each other.”

 

“We do,” Spike said when Buffy turned her head toward him and found herself looking into a very different pair of eyes. These were the eyes of the person she loved, and she found reassurance and momentary respite in his gaze. “Helene here knows me from a couple of decades ago.” 

 

“I trust that that means you know her word is worth something,” Abbadon said with a sharpness that made Buffy’s skin crawl and made her chest tighten. It meant that whatever she did would also impact Spike. 

 

“It is,” Spike said with surety. 

 

“Lovely,” Abbadon said, clapping his hands on his thighs and rubbing. “All right, Helene, tell me what you know.”

 

Buffy took a deep breath and found the words that she’d rehearsed with Dawn. “There are members of our faction that don’t approve of the compliance with human standards and rules. We believe that vampires should have more freedoms and different rights, and there are those who want to align with you because of the rumors they’ve heard about the upcoming. . .” Buffy almost couldn’t think of a word for "apocalypse," but then, the word Dawn had offered glided into her brain, “revelation.”

 

Abbadon scoffed. “Why should we even care about your faction? You left decades ago to align yourselves with the wrong side.” The weaker side was implied in his tone.

 

Willow and Renu had warned her that the other faction could care less what happened to the rest of their kind, so Buffy pulled out their other card, laying it on the proverbial table earlier than she expected. “We also have a gift for you. We believe it will greatly help your cause.” 

 

The other vampire gave her nonplussed smirk. “I highly doubt that you’d have anything that could help us.”

 

Buffy wasn’t fazed. “Then, why have me here? Isn’t it all about control? We have something that you don’t.”

 

“Would you like some blood?” He leaned forward and tapped the glass. The sound of the game rushed back through the box.

 

This was a bad sign – very bad. She forced herself to remain calm and was really glad to no longer have the mood-detecting computer function on. “Thank you, but I’m not hungry.”

 

He didn’t bother to look at her anymore and focused back on the game, arranging himself artfully in the chair, his fingers steepled. “Au contraire, my dear. Your stomach is rumbling. Anyone could hear it a mile away. Mitchell, bring Helene some blood. I’m feeling magnanimous, so whichever you choose.”

 

“The lady said she wasn’t hungry,” Spike said with calm steel in his voice. 

 

“Pulan, I get that you have an attachment to this one, but really. Mind your place.” He made a face as the crowd roared in disapproval. “Will you look at that? I bet money on the Panthers, and they’re losing. Ah well.” He glanced up and over his shoulder. “Mitchell. The blood.” 

 

A growl rose out of the back of Spike’s throat, and it was met with such a prolonged silence that Buffy’s entire body tensed. She was more than ready to jump into action with him but was holding back because she was still following his lead.

 

A loud bang resounded downstairs and then there was the sound of thudding footsteps running up the stairs. 

 

Abbadon was on his feet in a flash, his suit somehow rumpled, his face shifted into ridges and fangs. Buffy and Spike rose with him. The other vampires were standing frozen, dumbfounded clones, unable to take action on their own. 

 

“What are you standing there for? Get down there!” Abbadon hissed, his high voice making him sound bossy and insipid – far from commanding. 

 

The vampires nevertheless heeded his order. Buffy thought that this was because he held the threat of Russian blood roulette over their heads. 

 

As their feet clattered down the steps, a thump hit the glass behind them followed by another thump. 

 

Buffy whirled to see humanoid figures dressed in black bodysuits, their faces overlaid by black ski masks and hands and feet covered by giant mechanical suction cups. As they watched, one figure began using a laser to cut through the thick material separating them from the rest of the crowd below. 

 

Adrenaline fueling her, Buffy glanced at Spike, and he merely said, “Duck.”

 

Without hesitation, she dropped into a deep crouch. 

 

Spike pushed up his sleeve, which was hiding one of the old-fashioned stake bracers, made of wood and leather. With a flick of his wrist, a stake flew out, and he plunged the pointed end into Abbadon’s chest. 

 

Abbadon’s mouth dropped open in shock, his thin face appearing even thinner, and with a whoosh, he burst into dust. 

 

Buffy was on her feet in an instant, and Spike grabbed her hand, pulling her to the back of the box. He pushed aside a shelf, sports books toppling to the floor and revealing a button, which he jabbed with his thumb. There was a soft hum from somewhere down below, moving rapidly and growing louder. 

 

Feet thudded on the steps close by, and glass shattered behind them, shards tinkling as they hit the marble. 

 

The doors to a hidden elevator started to part, the brightly lit interior beckoning, and Buffy didn’t question, turning sideways and slipping through the opening, her eyes scanning the control pad. Spike smashed the wall containing the elevator button with his fist, and Buffy heard the jump of sparks. 

 

The black-clad figures were thunking into the box, and more poured out from the staircase. 

 

Buffy pushed the button for the bottom floor and then began pushing the closed-door button over and over. The elevator doors began to close slowly, the safety feature omnipresent across the centuries. Spike slid a knife out of his boot in preparation for a fight, but just as one figure hurtled toward them, the doors closed and sealed.

 

The elevator began a rapid descent. 

 

“Who are those guys?” Buffy asked, breathing hard despite the lack of need. 

 

“Abbadon has made enemies, it seems.” Spike gave her a once over. “You okay? I can’t bloody tell with that glamour Red has you under.”

 

“I-I’m fine.” The corner of her mouth lifted. “Really hungry actually.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “I know. Let’s get somewhere safe, and we’ll find you some sustenance.” 

 

She wanted to touch him, so she grabbed his hand, relief filling her again. He was alive and whole, and six months was way too long to be apart. “I need more than food.”

 

“Oh, really?” he said, his voice deepening, his blue eyes darkening with desire.

 

The elevator dinged before Buffy could speak, doors sweeping open to reveal a deserted floor. She was pretty sure they were still somewhere in the stadium, but the sounds of the game were distant and muffled. 

 

“We need to find a shuttle bay and fast,” Spike said, exiting the elevator. He stooped and scooped something off the floor, stuffing it in his pocket. 

 

Buffy flipped on her routing computer and her emotion detector and made a silent request, which was met with the fastest route available sort of thing, especially considering she was still running on fear and adrenaline. “Come on!” 

 

They ran with Buffy leading them through a string of available back hallways.

 

Seven minutes and thirty-two seconds later, they made it to a small, off-the-beaten-path sort of shuttle bay. 

 

An old man stood from his station, his lined face brightening in surprise. He doffed his cap as Buffy skidded to a halt in front of him. “May I help you, young lady?”

 

“Yes! We’re looking for a shuttle to take us back to Earth.” She inhaled sharply. “Please.”

 

He plunked back down and consulted his computer. “We don’t normally have shuttles that head back to the home planet, but. . .” He punched at the screen. “You’re in luck. I have one. I hate to say it, but it’s an older model.” 

 

“We’ll take it! How much?”

 

Spike stepped up. “I got it.”

 

“A chivalrous one, aren’t you?” the man said, surveying Spike. “I like that. Treating your lady right. Makes for a happy relationship for the long-term.”

 

Spike softened and smiled over at Buffy, tilting his head, love all over his face like a neon sign. She could never get enough of it. “As long as she’ll have me.”

 

Buffy returned his smile, taking his hand again. “I think I’ll keep you.”

 

The old man worked things out between Spike’s internal computer and the shuttle bay computer. Two minutes later, he said, “You’re all set. She’s in bay 2A. Safe travels.”

 

“Thank you.” Spike breezed past the older gentleman, tugging Buffy by the hand. 

 

They hurried to the shuttle, and to Buffy’s dismay, it was a really old model, complete with lack of gravity on board. Her face fell. “Great.” So much for shuttle sex. 

 

Spike smirked at her as the shuttle door began opening. “Ah, pet. Don’t take it so hard. We have a lot of planning to do.”

 

“We do? I thought the plan was nutrition for me, and something else for the both of us.” She sighed and tried not to look too dejected. “What is this planning we have to do?” She knew they had a lot to do, but really? Right away?

 

Spike stepped aboard the shuttle, his boots clanging on the metal. “Where we’re going? We need to work on you being more like a vampire.”

 

She threw her arms up and announced, “Newsflash: I am a vampire!” before following him on board. “And you’ve taught me well enough. I fit in.”

 

“Not exactly what I meant, pet.”

 

“What’re you saying? I’m a good blend of human and demon-y stuff. I’ve been at this long enough.” She tapped a sequence on the wall panel, and the shuttle began closing while interior lights came on.

 

His exhale was edged with annoyance. “Okay. Well, maybe I need you to keep following my lead.”

 

She grinned. “As long as your lead involves somehow turning on the gravity and making love to me.”


	7. 2004

**2004**

 

_When he found her, she lifted her head from where she was curled up on the sofa like a butterfly in a cocoon. A blanket was tight over her body and her head poked out, blonde hair mussed like newborn wings that needed arranging._

_She deepened her scowl at his appearance. She hadn’t staked him, but today, she was considering. . . something akin to it. This wasn’t just aimed at him; it applied to anyone who crossed her path. She wouldn’t let herself gaze into his eyes because if she saw the love, she’d never be able to keep up the grumps._

_He nudged her blanket-covered knee with his jean-clad one. “What’s up, love?”_

_She didn’t respond and turned her head away. She was entitled, though she didn’t like hurting him. . . hence, the not looking at his face._

_“It’s not about me not coming after you for almost a year, is it? I thought we covered that ground. My arse has fond memories of being whipped into shape once you got hold of your new legs.”_

_The corner of her lips lifted against her will. Damn him._

_He chose not to comment on the subtle shift in her demeanor. Smart man. Still, he carried on; she knew he couldn’t help himself. He liked to open mouth, insert foot; he always did. Most of the time these days, she found it endearing, especially since she never thought he’d be around to do it again, an echo of a time when he’d gone after his soul. . . for her. She’d been lost without him then, too. “So, if it’s not about me being a wanker. . .” he trailed off and sat down on the sofa next to her._

_She couldn’t move away, and truth be told, she relaxed under the gentle but firm movement of his hand up her thigh to her hip. That was as far as he’d gone in touching her; fabric remained between them for now._

_When he leaned back, his hand moving with him and away from her, she glanced at him, her eyes jumping around to avoid. Before he even spoke, she knew he knew, and she sighed._

_“This is about Dawn, isn’t it?” Her eyebrows drew together just slightly. “It is. You’re all torn up inside because she went to the beach with her new friends and spent the last couple of days soaking up the sunshine. It makes sense that you’re feeling sad about that. I-I understand.”_

_Her shoulder went up, the blanket falling off her shoulder. “She needed the break.”_

_They all did. L.A. was a mess, and humans couldn’t deny the existence of vampires and demons and creatures that went bump in the night anymore. Her sister had taken a much-needed two-day trip up the coast with two other teenagers her age and had come back to Spike’s apartment with a sun-kissed glow and joy in her eyes. She was sleeping now, tucked up in the bed that Spike had set up for her in the tiny space._

_He was silent for what felt like an eternity. . . well, an eternity for him. Then, he said, “I know that I took the sun from you – ”_

_“You didn’t.” She really studied him then, saw the pain of hurting her in his eyes, and freed her arm. Her fingers found and tucked themselves between his. “I love you.” She’d told him the second time when she woke up changed – alive but not alive. He’d believed her this time; at least, she thought he did._

_His thumb stroked the soft spot between her index finger and thumb, and she didn’t just feel desire. She felt like she was home. “I love you, too, pet.”_

_She expected him to kiss her, but he did the opposite of what she expected as was his way. He stood, pulling her to her feet with tenderness._

_The blanket fell to the floor at her feet, a soft shell shed. “What’re we – ”_

_“You need to learn something tonight.” The intensity in his eyes left her confused._

_Her eyes were wide. “About what?”_

_“How to be a vampire. You’re a Slayer, yes, but you’re also a vampire. Got to hone your new senses, stretch your legs so to speak.” He paused but spoke again before she could reply. “Do you trust me?”_

_That wasn’t even a question – not now, and he drove her out of the city on their own mini-road trip. When they reached a huge wooded area and a place where plants weren’t growing on top of one another, he pulled onto a dirt road. She exited the vehicle, the slam of the door closing nothing compared to the sounds of life in the forest. Insects hummed and buzzed and sang, and somehow, she could hear an owl hooting somewhere far away from where they were. She wouldn’t be surprised if the creature was a mile to the right. (She’d have to remember to ask him about distances later.) The smell of the trees was heady and powerful and alive, and she was drawn to enter the forest in a way she never was when she was human. Clouds covered the moon and stars, but there was just enough illumination for her new eyes to see her way through the foliage. Like the bugs, her whole body felt like it was humming. She wanted to run._

_“Love?” he called._

_She swung her head toward him in a predatory fashion, a growl rolling in the back of her throat. She opened her mouth but couldn’t find words._

_He chuckled in response. “That’s my girl. Go. Hunt. Feed.”_

_She made a face at the “hunt” and “feed” parts. “I’m not a dog. Or a werewolf.”_

_He emitted a small sound of frustration. “You’re a vixen. And you need to know how to do this. You can reprimand me later.”_

_The growl pushed past her lips this time, and she felt something shift in her eyes, her vision becoming sharper and brighter. “Come with me?”_

_He moved so quickly around the car that she barely saw him until he was next to her, and then, he was stroking her cheek and dipping low for a kiss that left her lips longing for more. Later. “Of course.”_

_In a second, they were off._

_He let her set the pace, staying a few steps behind her as he often had in Sunnydale cemeteries. Soon the sounds of him in the background faded into the back of her mind, and she picked her way through the trees – hands running over rough bark and feet somehow remaining silent on a forest floor littered with dead leaves. The tiniest of heartbeats filled her ears: mice and squirrels and birds. They were scuttling and rustling and chittering._

_Who knew the night was so alive? She supposed she should have known._

_She followed her senses, not really knowing where she was going, a different kind of hunt driving her. No wooden stakes or swords or axes filled her hands. She reveled in the experience; she felt. . . free._

_With no notion of the passage of time, she had no idea when she detected the stronger heart. All she knew was it was suddenly there, pulsing in her ears, calling her name like some bizarre version of the Tell-Tale Heart that didn’t frighten her. She picked up speed, following the sound. The beat got closer and then slipped away, and she moved with it, ebbing and flowing, so as not to frighten the owner of said heart._

_She was so caught up in her hunt that the clearing came as a surprise, the open area making her stop short._

_The clouds had parted, and the moon was full and white – whiter than she’d ever seen before, casting a silvery, shimmery glow over the field before her. The stars were brilliant and many – like glittering Christmas lights that she’d stared into for too long._

_And then, she saw him. The owner of the heart was mere yards away. He was a proud creature, head held high, antlers tall and wide. He was old and strong. (At least, he wasn’t a baby. She couldn’t have stomached that.) Her human side sent him a silent apology._

_His living blood sang to her._

_Without thought, her face changed, ridges thrusting forth and fangs descending. Her vision sharpened further until she swore she could see him breathing, his ribcage moving in and out in a steady rhythm like waves on the ocean._

_It wasn’t the sun, but it would do._

_She whipped her head around to find her companion behind her, and she waited._

_He smiled at her and nodded._

_Still, she waited. She wanted him with her, not behind her in the shadows. She offered her hand to him, and without hesitation, he was by her side._

_Together, they went for the kill._


	8. Present day

**Present day**

 

Buffy let Spike pilot the ship, mostly because she still didn’t like to drive: cars or shuttles. Once they were in space, the place between worlds, strapped to chairs due to the lack of gravity, she asked, “You’re going to fill me in, right? On what’s been going on. On what you mean by me being more like a vampire.” She was a bit offended that after almost two centuries of making death her art, as he told her, he thought she wasn’t enough of a vampire. 

 

“Of course.” He pulled over the control panel attached to his seat, his long fingers flying over the screen. “Just give us a moment. I think I may have a workaround for the gravity.”

 

“Oh cool,” she said, studying his fingers. She always liked watching him work, but it also left her open to babbling on, something that normally drove him batty. “So, now that we’re alone alone, we can talk freely. I wish we could call Willow, but I can’t connect.” She sighed. “I really want to know what happened that you didn’t make the check-in. And who were those guys who attacked us? And god, do you know how much I’ve missed you? Like really? Six months doesn’t seem like much in the grand scheme of things, considering I’m almost 200. Can you believe I’m 200? I mean, if you count the years I was living. That’s a long time! I never thought I’d live that long – ” 

 

“Buffy!” He sounded way irritated. 

 

She took a breath. “Yeah?”

 

He fixed his blue eyes on her, and she felt their connection again, almost melted into the floor with it. It always hit her hard in the heart even though the organ didn’t beat anymore. “I love you, pet. I’ve missed you more than you know, but I need to focus. Gravity first. Hopefully. Then, talk.” 

 

“Hold me after that?”

 

He arched a suggestive eyebrow at her. “Of course.”

 

“Or during?”

 

“Pet!” 

 

“Sorry.” She pinched her thumb and index finger together and drew them across her lips, zipping them shut. 

 

When she almost couldn’t contain herself anymore several minutes later, there was a click and a whine, and she felt the gravity come online with great reluctance. Spike looked up at her and tilted his head just so, a come-hither smile on his face. She didn’t need any further invitation, and she unbuckled herself and hurtled herself toward him as he undid his straps as well. 

 

With his arms tight around her, her head back against his chest, she sighed. “Finally.”

 

He nuzzled her ear. “Finally.”

 

Something pressed uncomfortably into her lower back, and it was not what she anticipated. For one, it was a bit too high. For another, it wasn’t the right shape. Reaching back, her fingers found a lump in his jacket pocket. “What in the world?” She twisted around to see.

 

He chuckled. “Oh yeah.” His hand dove out of sight, and he produced a small miniature football, the kind they threw into the stands for eager, screaming fans. The scarlet logo for the Rhinos was emblazoned on the side of the white ball. He held it up to her. “Got you a souvenir.”

 

She accepted the football with a confused expression on her face. “Gee. Thanks?”

 

His smirk told her that he knew he’d get this reaction. “Thought you might like it. It’s not every day that we get to go to a playoff game. Too expensive.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Okay. I’ll put it on the shelf.” In their apartment, they had a shelf in their living room. On it were little knickknacks from each of their adventures. There was a quill from a porcupine demon they’d defeated in Sunnydale, a seashell from the islands where he’d taken her on vacation, and a photo of everyone that they’d all taken when she’d first reunited with Spike. 

 

“Good.” He shifted her back around. “Now, we should talk about why I didn’t make the check-in.”

 

“It’s dire, isn’t it?” She found herself chewing the inside of her cheek again.

 

“Well, yeah.”

 

“What is it? It’s worse than we thought!” She turned around again, her hand on his thigh, and misinterpreted his face. “Oh god. It’s too late. There’s nothing we can do. I knew we should have sent more people in with you, but oh no, the Board said just you for now. God, we were so stupid. This is what we get when – ”

 

He shut her up this time by bringing his lips to hers with such tenderness that she moaned softly before letting her mouth dance with his until she was completely and utterly relaxed. Then, he drew back, his nose nudging into hers. “You done with the catastrophizing?”

 

She nodded. “Uh huh. Listening.” 

 

He studied her and saw that she was serious. “I’ll cut to the chase. You know that Shireen is the leader of the faction who is behind this potential apocalypse?” 

 

“Yep.” Shireen was a vampire, and from the information that had been gathered, she was old like Spike and Buffy, but she looked like she twenty-years-old. 

 

“She’s more than just a vampire, pet. She’s a Slayer, witch, and vampire all rolled in one petite package.” 

 

Buffy was dumbfounded and shook the miniature football in his face. “What? And you wanted me to stop catastrophizing?!”

 

A serious expression coloring his features, Spike put a hand on the football and her hand, lowering both. “I don’t want us dead. . . well, deader. We’re going into the lion’s den, and we need to plan.” Over the years, they’d gotten better at the planning together, proving that the two-heads-are-better-than-one thing was true, especially their two heads. 

 

“Okay. When can I ask questions?” She had so many that she didn’t know where to begin.

 

“Let me see if I can answer some. First, Shireen was turned during the battle in Los Angeles.”

 

“Same as me.”

 

“Yeah, pet, but not by someone she loved or who loved her.” He hugged her hips.

 

“Makes sense.” Buffy frowned. “Why don’t I remember a Slayer named Shireen?”

 

“You hadn’t learned all the girls’ names yet. I was there, remember? Well, after the first year.” He caught himself. “The year when I was being a wanker.”

 

“A big wanker, but you’re not anymore.” She patted his arm.

 

“There were so many that you were finding, but my bet is that she didn’t even know she was a Slayer. If Dana was out there, there had to be others in a city the size of L.A. The fight consumed large portions of the city; I imagine she got caught up in the fray.” Spike sounded sure about this theory.

 

“She told you.” That was interesting. The vampire witch (or was it Slayer vampire witch?) trusted him enough to open up to him. 

 

“She did.”

 

Buffy’s mind jumped to the duplicate Spike’s. “She likes you.” A feeling darted through her, and she clambered out of his lap and to her feet. “She likes you a lot.”

 

Spike put his hands up, palms to her, a marker of defense that was familiar. “Now hold on there, pet.”

 

She took a step back, a bright bubble of anger growing in her chest. She glared. “Why else would she have her minions dress like you? What’s going on?”

 

Spike’s eyes took on a desperation she hadn’t seen in such a long time that it seemed almost foreign. “Pet, let me remind you that I was deep undercover for six bloody months.”

 

“And oh, that means you have to take certain liberties, does it?” Hurt ballooned up inside the anger. 

 

“No! No liberties! I promise you that. There’s only one person I love and that’s you. And have you ever known me to be a sodding cheater?” He cocked his head to the side. “Well, maybe at kitten poker once upon a time.”

 

“This isn’t funny!” Buffy crossed her arms and stomped her foot, her boot clanging on the metal floor of their rust-bucket shuttle. Then, she immediately felt like a child, which pissed her off even more, so she threw the football at his head.

 

He batted it away toward the cockpit, his jaw clenching in annoyance. With a gentleness that belied his facial expression, he took her hands and loosened her arms before gripping her forearms and lowering his head to hers. “I would never hurt you that way. Not after what the poof did to you, not after what soldier boy did.” She evaded the intensity of his gaze. “Even if I ever completely lost my mind and thought we were through – ” She made a face at that and turned further away, but he followed until she was forced to look at him. “You bloody well know I’m head over heels for you and always will be. You drive me absolutely round the fucking bend, which is one of the rea. . . one of the many reasons I love you. Only you.” 

 

Two-centuries-ago Buffy wouldn’t have softened, but present-day Buffy felt the stubborn part of her relent, and she pulled him close. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted. It’s just this whole situation and with you not being in contact and us having to act all weird around each other. It’s got me a bit bonkers.” She lifted her chin to view the beautiful blue of his eyes. “But seriously. Did she hurt you? Or force you to do anything?”

 

He kissed her in reply and then sighed. “Now don’t get wound up again, but she does seem to have a thing for me.” 

 

Buffy bopped him on the arm. “I knew it!” 

 

“Ow.” He grinned. “No need to get feisty. I’ve fended her off!”

 

“I’m gonna get feisty all over her ass,” Buffy growled, her fangs threatening to descend. 

 

“From what I’ve observed, she’d probably like that. She likes to fight and finagle with people’s minds. She’s like Abbadon but worse.” Spike was all with the doom-and-gloom.

 

“Abbadon was an idiot. Who were those guys at the game?” 

 

“I don’t rightly know. But now he’s dust, and Shireen’s not. You need to know that though she likes me, she doesn’t fully trust me, so I know some but not all about her plans. She’s a witch with power that rivals Red’s, a vampire with a cruel streak – no doubt because she was mistreated as a child and a Slayer with just enough power to hunger for more. She pretty much thinks she’s invincible, which I think will be her downfall, but she’s wary and cunning enough that it won’t be easy.” 

 

Buffy stepped out of his embrace with some reluctance and snagged the arm of her chair. She plunked down in it. “Okay. I’m all with the concentration. What more do you know about her?”

 

She could tell Spike was amused by her renewed focus because his mouth twisted just a fraction, and he took the seat across from her again. “After the fall of L.A. and the coming out, Shireen was under the guidance of her sire, a vampire Angelus, Darla, Dru and I had little contact with. He stayed out of our way when we were – ”

 

“Cutting a swath of death and destruction across the Earth’s eastern hemisphere?”

 

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah. He knew he had something special with Shireen, so much like Peaches trained me in his image, Shireen’s sire did the same for her. She’s a psychopath with a side of narcissism that she likes to indulge.”

 

“Hence, the look-alike-Spike minions?” Buffy decided that this was pretty lame. None of them could hold a candle to the genuine article.

 

“On the nose. At some point during the coming out process, her sire was dusted by a group of Slayers that ganged up on them in Australia. Shireen was devastated, and she vowed to never align herself with humans. She didn’t have power to stand up against the negotiations between the other vampire faction and the humans, but she quietly and slowly built up power among the opposing faction.” Spike ran his fingers over the metal on the arms of his chair, and she was totally distracted again.

 

“Until she was where she is now.” 

 

His arms settled in one place, his long fingers tempting her. She focused on his words. “Right. But she doesn’t just want the power she has now. She wants control over the human population, the other faction, and the other demons in the world, and she plans to gain that power by some form of magic that siphons power from the sun.”

 

“Isn’t that exactly what vampires wouldn’t want to do?” she joked.

 

He snorted but returned to his sober stance. “In the most concrete sense, yes, but I think the siphoning is to the detriment of the world around us. . . well, Earth, that is. I’m just not sure how yet.”

 

“Does it matter? Let’s just dust her and be done with it.”

 

“I don’t think it’ll be that easy, love. She’s got an army of vampires and even demons at her beck and call. I’ve seen it.”

 

“And we don’t have an army of Slayers anymore.” Buffy wilted a little. Even after all this time, she felt so much guilt about playing a role in the creation of so many Slayers. The girls hadn’t had a choice. The army of Slayers had been tough to gather up and train and assign around the world, but somehow, the little ragtag team from Sunnydale had done it. The only problem was that unlike Buffy, none of the rest of them were immortal, and though they were open to the idea of coming to peaceful terms with the vampires and demons in the world who were willing, most of the girls and later women didn’t want to embrace immortality themselves. There were two that Buffy knew about. One had been dusted in a battle not long after she was turned, and the other was long retired, having dropped out of the loop to live a quiet unlife. The rest of the Potentials that were converted during the battle with the First’s army of ubervamps were dead. There was one Slayer in all the world again, and she was off handling a delicate campaign in China. Buffy had only met her once in passing.

 

“We don’t, but we do have a hodgepodge army of demons, vampires, and humans.” He reached over and took her hand in his; she knew he knew that the guilt mobile was chugging down the highway of her mind. “No need to beat yourself up, love. The way Shireen turned out is not your fault. People are handed power all the time, and they have a choice in how they handle it.”

 

A smile took over one corner of her mouth. “Love the way you handled it.” She still believed in him – so much. 

 

He returned her smile. “Thanks, pet. Because of you. Love’s bitch and all.” He pulled her and the chair closer. The mechanism attaching it to the shuttle squeaked in protest. “Now, we should talk about this.” He gestured up and down at her.

 

She lifted both eyebrows at him. “What about this?” She was confused but not back at hurt.

 

“Your appearance.”

 

“What – ” Her skin was olive colored, the strands of hair she could see were dark. “Oh, yeah.”

 

“Shireen’s gonna see right through that.” He pushed his lips further to one side.

 

“Damn. Really?” 

 

“You don’t see me in magical disguise, do you?”

 

“Oh yeah.” Buffy fumbled through her mind computer, found the folder with Willow’s magic-technology in it and flipped off the appearance modification. She cocked her head at him. “Better?”

 

His blue eyes drank her in like a thirsty man who’d spent too long in the desert. “Much.” He leaned forward and kissed her. His mouth hovering close to hers, he searched her eyes. “Like the green eyes more than the brown.”

 

She briefly bit his lower lip. She shivered, longing to sink her fangs into him. Instead, she whispered, “Thanks. Only two percent of us in the world, you know.” 

 

“I know. One of the many things that make you you.” He sat back again to Buffy’s momentary dismay. 

 

“What about the soul piece? Can she detect that?”

 

“Not so far. Think because it’s buried so deep and is a subtler thing than appearance. She’d have to know what to look for, and I really don’t think she does. Her sire seems to have left the notion of vampires with souls out of the equation, probably to keep her on a tight leash. Knowledge is power and all.” 

 

Buffy shifted in her chair. “How is she going to react to me joining you?”

 

“Well, she’s not gonna like that we’re together. That’s for sure.”

 

Her irritation flared for a brief moment. “Too bad.” 

 

“She will be very interested in what you have to tell her about the other faction. What is the cover story that you and Willow concocted? And is it approved by the bloody Board?”

 

The Board was nothing like the Council of Watchers – a group of mostly older men overseeing one girl. Instead, the Board was comprised of world leaders and members of the general populace, including vampires and demons. They worked with various groups to help maintain peace on Earth, Mars, and the moon, and they also looked to several experts to assist them. One of those experts happened to be Willow, and Spike, Buffy, and Dawn were her team, which allowed them to do more of the heavy lifting while remaining fairly anonymous, something Buffy cherished. 

 

“The Board doesn’t know everything. They know better than to interfere with the details of what we do.” Willow had fought hard for that bit of privacy, arguing that to get the job done, some things had to be left out. 

 

“But the other faction does.”

 

“Just Magnus and Kathleen.” The two vampires in charge of the faction for peace were trustworthy; though soulless, they weren’t psychopaths. “They know I’ll be saying that they’re willing to join Shireen in her quest and want to negotiate terms while leaving out the Board completely. Think Shireen will buy it?”

 

Spike looked thoughtful. “Dunno. All I do know is that she’ll be intrigued by the offer.”

 

“And I’ll still be Helene but look like Buffy?” 

 

“Yeah. And she’ll know we’re lovers.”

 

“Well, duh.” She paused. “But we haven’t done anything in months.” 

 

He sucked in his cheeks and wiggled his jaw until she squirmed with desire. “Give it a few more minutes, pet.”

 

“We have to contact Willow and Dawn.” Damn it.

 

“We do. Safe enough to do in space. Tell them where we’re going and what the plan is.”

 

“The plan is to tell Shireen about the other faction?” 

 

“And get her to agree to a meeting. Meanwhile, we’ll have to do more snooping to figure out what her plan is.”

 

“Got it. And then?” She abandoned her perch, climbing back into his lap and gently rubbing the front of his jeans until she felt him swelling in response to her. He closed his eyes and groaned. “This?”

 

He opened his eyes and gripped her bottom with a suddenness that made her squeak and laugh. “Yes, pet, that. We do, after all, have two bloody days on board this sodding slow heap of junk.”

 

“Oh, woe is you. Whatever will we do to pass the time?” she teased. 

 

He responded by standing and hefting her hips so that her legs went around him, and he carried her toward the wall where the small space bed was stored. He flipped a switch so that the pallet fell to the shuttle floor, its legs clanging loudly, the sound reverberating through the ship. Then, he threw her on the mattress and climbed atop her, pressing soft kisses on her forehead and cheeks while she smiled at him. “Red can wait a little longer.”


	9. 2004

**2004**

 

_She found him in the living room of their rented house in the suburbs of Cleveland. He was tucking a stack of sloppily wrapped presents under the Christmas tree, glowing lights painting a multi-colored rainbow over his dark T-shirt._

_She studied him – the man who’d been so patient with her as she adjusted to being something more than human, something more than a Slayer. He was a study in contrasts – raw, preternatural strength and sharp lean edges diametrically opposite to the gentleness of his heart and the soft touch of his fingers against her skin as he held her in sleep._

_He was beautiful._

_Her desire for him swept over her body, not for the first time since she found him again. They hadn’t acted on the physical – not yet. They were still tentative after the badness that was the year after she was resurrected. She wasn’t afraid, but she knew he was still gun shy. Somehow, she knew she would have to make the first move. . . would have to reassure him again that she wanted him and only him. Lord knew she’d hurt his heart before. She almost wished that Angel had survived the battle in L.A., so she could prove her loyalty and underscore her choice._

_He stood and faced her with a small smile on his face. Gesturing at the cluster of presents, he ran a self-conscious hand over his bleached hair and said, “It’s not much, but it’s Christmas. Been a long time since I celebrated the holiday.” He shrugged. “Thought it might mean something to you even though. . .”_

_She caught the sadness in the dark blue swirl of his eyes, and she went to him, wrapping her slender arms around his waist and pressing her cheek against the soft cotton covering his chest. “It means the world to me, and I know it will mean a lot to Dawn.”_

_They didn’t have money as remaining Council funds were tied up in the organizational costs of setting things up for the Slayers and dealing with the aftermath of the supernatural revelation. He must have scrounged around for something just like she had._

_His hand threaded through the soft cascade of her hair over her back. “When’s the lil Bit coming home?”_

_“Tomorrow. Just in time for Christmas dinner.” Her little sister was in a year-round boarding school in North Carolina – a safe distance from all the complications and stress and just for this school year, so she wouldn’t fall too far behind. Her sister’s life had already been disrupted so much, and she deserved the momentary stability to regroup. Giles had been more than happy to fund the endeavor from his personal accounts._

_“Best present of all.”_

_“Which part? My sister coming home or my cooking?” She knew the answer was her sister; she loved the cozy family unit they made when they were all together._

_He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest in a comforting echo. “Is there a right answer to this question of yours?”_

_She propped her chin on his chest, a smirk tracing over her lips. “The answer better not be my cooking.” Before he could respond, she pulled back a little, so her view of his face was clear. She rubbed tiny circles at the base of his spine; a gesture she knew he relished. “So, I’ve been thinking about your present and how it could be a present for me, too.” He glanced back toward the box for him under the tree, but she caught his face in her palm and turned him toward her, trying her hardest to infuse the emotion she felt for him into her expression. “I love you. You know that, right?”_

_She watched the dance of emotions in his eyes – uncertainty, hesitancy, and understanding were all weaving in and out and around one another. He did believe her; she could tell, but her heart ached that there was still doubt there – just a little but it was present. She wanted to erase it away because her feelings felt solid and unshakable; there was no way she could ever deny them now. He wasn’t beneath her; he was inside her – infusing every fiber of her being and not just because he was her sire. She couldn’t imagine life without him._

_He searched her eyes. “I do. Know it.” His gaze flicked away for the briefest of seconds, but she didn’t want that, so she seized the opportunity._

_Carpe diem as Willow once reminded her. Carpe diem, carpe noctem, carpe stellas._

_“I want to show you how much.” Her hand slipped under his shirt, the cotton bunching up as two fingers of her left hand dipped just below the waist of his jeans. She suddenly felt shy and found herself studying the vulnerability of his barely exposed belly button. “I mean, if you want me.”_

_“You’re sure?” His voice was husky and deep._

_His words and tone gave her renewed courage, and she met his eyes again and gave the barest of nods. A smile spread across his face, lighting every feature before he dove in for a kiss, his soft lips gliding over hers, sending her body into a tailspin of longing. She deepened the gesture, speeding up and slowing down with the back and forth of the gentle rhythm. She nipped at his lower lip before plunging in again, and he groaned, gripping her hips so that she could swing her legs up around his waist and her arms around his neck._

_He nuzzled her cheek and whispered, “Where?”_

_“Bedroom. Comfy bed. Fluffy pillows.” For others, it might seem tame, but for her. . . for them, their bed was important. There would be nothing missing now – no dearth of tenderness, no lack of love, and hopefully no paucity of passion._

_In lieu of candles, he’d strung a string of soft white Christmas lights around their bedroom window, and they were the only illumination in the room as he reverently laid her on their bed. He kissed her lips with a promise of return and took one step back to shed his clothing._

_She watched him with intention as he pulled his shirt over his head, the lights casting shadows in the muscles of his abdomen. She propped up on one elbow and thumbed open the button of his jeans, sliding the zipper down to free him. The denim fell off his hips with an easy tug, and as he joined her on the bed, she emulated his earlier movement, stripping off her own T-shirt and allowing it to drop to the floor with his. Her leggings and lace panties were discarded next._

_Then, she allowed herself to touch and stroke him as she watched the ecstasy on his face. He felt familiar and different all at the same time, his flesh warmer because she was cooler. After several seconds, his head lifted and eyes narrowed at her. Her brain barely registered what was happening when his scarred eyebrow quirked up, and he gently pushed her onto her back so that her head landed on the softness of the pillow. Moving between her legs, he smoothed aside stray strands of hair from her face. With bright, hopeful eyes, he studied her and then swept feathery kisses over her forehead, cheeks, nose, chin, and mouth as his hand drifted down to massage tender parts below. She squirmed as her body became awash with desire and need, but he continued his ministrations, his lips working their way over her neck and over her shoulders as his fingers explored other wet places. Every muscle in her body relaxed, and she let herself become completely consumed in sensation. . . sensation that her body never forgot._

_When she could wait for him to enter her no longer, she lifted her legs up and around his waist again, pulling him close. Then, she turned the tables, rolling them so that he was on his back. She ran her hands over his arms, pinning his hands over his head and wriggling her hips slowly against him, so he could tell how much she longed to have him inside her. Her mouth over his, she whispered with her own trace of insecurity, “Do you trust me?” This was different than their hunt under the stars. Did he trust her to hold his heart the way he held hers?_

_His answer was unequivocal. “I trust you, love. Trust you, love you, want you. Always.” This time, she believed all of it._

_“Always. You are my best present ever.” She kissed him to seal the promise of being his and released his arms, pushing up and slowly, achingly sliding onto him._


	10. Present day

**Present day**

 

Biting her lip in concentration, Buffy used the built-in camera to create an image in the one mirror in the shuttle so she could braid her hair. She loved that technology allowed her to “see” her reflection even though she technically didn’t have one. 

 

Spike swooped in and pressed gentle lips over the wound in her neck where he’d taken a nibble earlier. Then, he pushed playfully at her ear with his nose and a soft growl as he buttoned up a crisp black shirt. 

 

Buffy squirmed away with a giggle and small shiver, partially at his touch and partially with the cool gust of the shuttle air conditioning over her naked body. Her eyebrows drew together in faux annoyance. “Stop it. Can’t you see I’m trying to braid here?” She held up the individual strands that were half woven together. 

 

“Can’t help that your neck is so tempting, love.” Still, he backed away and continued to adjust his shirt while keeping his intent eyes on her. “You know that advertising our sex life so blatantly is going to lead to one brassed off witch-Slayer-vampire.”

 

Buffy’s fingers wove the strands in and out, in and out while her nose jutted up in the air. “Maybe that’s the plan. Maybe I want to show her that I’m yours.” She angled her head back at him to reveal the fresh teeth marks and pointedly nodded toward his matching wound, which was just peeking out from the opening of his collar. “And you’re mine.” As she finished the hairstyle, she wrapped a small metal band in place over the ends of her hair and pushed a tiny button so that the band emitted a soft whir and shrank in on itself, effectively holding the braid in place. 

 

Spike grasped her shoulder and pulled her around, his lips capturing hers in a passionate kiss that sent tingles flying through her body to the tips of her fingers and toes. He broke away first. “Guess it won’t matter much what the outside shows.”

 

Buffy rounded her eyes and smiled flirtatiously. “She’ll smell us coming a mile away. Maybe ten miles.” The whole shuttle was perfumed with the scent of their lovemaking. 

 

He took both her elbows in his hands. “And you need to be careful. I don’t want you dusted. I could never live with myself.”

 

“Don’t worry. I plan to be around to bug you for a very long time.”

 

“Just a ‘long time’?”

 

“Don’t forget the ‘very.’ More like forever.”

 

“Good.” He lightly kissed the tip of her nose. He tugged her hips close to his so that she felt him hardening against her belly. “One more time for the road?” A series of three short beeps sang out from the cockpit. “Bugger. Fifteen minutes until we break into Earth’s atmosphere.” He sounded sad, and his lip stuck out a little; she hated that. His lip was just so tempting.

 

With renewed determination, she quickly unbuttoned his shirt before sweeping it off his shoulders so that it fluttered to the floor, rendering him just as naked as her. Taking his hand, she tugged him toward the front room of the shuttle. “C’mon, captain. A quickie in the cockpit with the stars as our backdrop? Can’t believe we haven’t christened it yet.” 

 

He followed her without protest, allowing her to push him into the cockpit chair and slide on top of his erection as he groaned with pleasure. She rode him slowly and then with greater and greater speed until his fingers were digging into her hips, and she felt like she might burst apart with the pleasure as he hit just the right spots. His head was thrown back, lips smiling and eyes closed, a marker of his elation. He came after she did, and just as he released, the shuttle computer sent out a more desperate high-pitched plea for them to buckle up before the rocky entrance into the atmosphere. 

 

With one last kiss, they disentangled from one another, cleaned up, and dressed in speed and sudden desperation, tugging on the all-black uniform that Shireen preferred. Spike shrugged on his leather duster and ran a hand over one stray curl, and Buffy tucked an escaped strand of hair back into her braid. Then, they staggered to their seats and clasped themselves in place. 

 

As the shuttle’s ancient bones rattled and shook and threatened to tear apart, Spike gazed at her with the bright flame of adoration in his eyes. “Love you, pet.”

 

She pressed her lips together in a gentle, close-lipped smile. Her words were shaky with the vibrations. “I love you, too. I can’t wait to be done with this to get back to our life.”

 

“Me, too, pet. I miss the quiet evenings with just the two of us.”

 

She sighed happily at the memory of being cuddled up in bed watching TV with him while he massaged her feet. . . and other parts. She enjoyed not being in the limelight of world save-age all the time. “Exactly.” The shuttle shuddered and jerked as if marking her point. “Are you sure this ship has auto-pilot?”

 

“Yeah. Programmed the destination in myself.” He tilted the computer screen in their direction, slowly pressing buttons on the screen to show their navigational path. 

 

“Austin?”

 

He nodded. “Austin, Texas. Old US of A.”

 

“Huh.” Austin was still very much a thriving place and had grown to the size of New York City in terms of population, but it somehow maintained its quirky personality and feel of Southern hospitality with barbeque, music festivals, lakes, and hiking trails on lush rolling hills. Traffic had been horrendous until the advent of flying vehicles. 

 

“Wasn’t expecting either. Thought things were centered around the Cleveland hellmouth where I started, but no. Shireen’s headquarters are here.” 

 

Buffy took a deep breath. “We have a plan.”

 

“We do, pet.” He sounded confident at least.

 

“Willow and Dawn will be on standby. We got this.” Once they contacted Willow and her sister, the jig was up. Shireen would know and their cover would be blown. Buffy gnawed on the inside of her cheek again; it wasn’t sensitive anymore, not after two days of relaxation. 

 

Spike reached over and squeezed her thigh. “You reassuring me or yourself?”

 

“Both of us.” She put her hand on top of his until he sat back again. 

 

Buffy watched the screen as the shuttle reconstituted and steadied, natural gravity coming back online as they glided with rapid speed toward their destination. The building was the tallest in Austin, the windows blackened and reflective, the sun’s rays pinging off the glass in sharp angles. As their shuttle approached, a hatch in the angled roof slid open, inviting them into the lion’s den.

 

“Here we go,” she whispered as the old shuttle stopped right over the entrance and began lowering with what felt like exaggerated slowness. 

 

“Better turn off your emotion meter,” Spike encouraged.

 

She frowned at him. “Why?”

 

“I don’t need you doing something rash.” His jaw was set, and she could tell he was serious.

 

She shrugged. “Already had it off anyway.”

 

“Good.”

 

“It could come in handy,” she insisted. “Emotions are useful tools. You know this. Vampires are nothing if not emotional, and I’m supposed to be more vampire-like, remember?” 

 

He softened. “I do know that, pet. I thrive on my feelings. Same as you. Just. . .”

 

The back of her fingers brushed his as they unbuckled themselves and stood. “I’ll be careful. Promise.” She picked up the grey bag she’d found in the shuttle and slung it over her shoulder, souvenir football and thermos of extra blood from the shuttle food dispenser tucked safely inside. (She couldn’t bring any of the rest of her belongings; Shireen didn’t allow weapons or other portable technology brought into her facility.) Buffy gave Spike a pointed look. “You have to promise, too.”

 

“I’ve lasted six months, haven’t I?” 

 

“Point.”

 

The shuttle landed with a thump as the landing feet hit the ground independently, jarring its passengers. Spike grabbed the back of his seat to steady himself. “Bloody ancient shuttle.”

 

She smirked. “Now you agree with me.”

 

They pivoted to the back of the vehicle as the shuttle door slowly squeaked open like the movements of the unoiled tinman from the Wizard of Oz. As they exited the small ship, Buffy saw that the dark-colored shuttle bay took up the entire floor of the building, other ships of various shapes and sizes docked against the high walls for charging and maintenance. Twenty vampires and a dozen demons wore all black and had their hands clasped behind them, eyes focused at a point in the distance. Their hair – if they had hair – was bleached platinum, and a slender female dressed in white stood at the center of them, her black hair shiny and down to her waist. Her dark eyes were piercing as she strode forward, the heels of her knee-high white boots beating a harsh staccato on the tile. Her nostrils flared briefly, but the brief flicker of seething anger that followed was quickly tucked away to be replaced by the serene smile of a swimwear model posing on the beach. 

 

The other undead Slayer ignored Buffy and focused on Spike. Buffy was suddenly very glad she turned off her emotion reader because even with the darn thing off, she already wanted to strangle Shireen. 

 

“Pulan!” Shireen rested her whole hand, palm open on Spike’s chest. “You’re back. When you dropped off, I was worried.” She didn’t sound worried in the least.

 

“Ah, well. You know me. I’m nothing if not a survivor,” he joked in a much too chummy way for Buffy. 

 

Shireen laughed, still not moving her hand. “I know that much. Remember the Fyarl demons at Salt Lick?” She batted her eyes at him. 

 

Spike smirked. “Fun times.” 

 

She licked her lips in a provocative manner. “Fun indeed.”

 

Stepping back so that the other woman’s hand fell away, Spike crossed his arms. “So, bad news. Abbadon is dust. We got attacked at the game by some assassins.”

 

“I sent them.” She emulated his stance, challenging him with, “Heard you killed him.”

 

To his credit, Spike didn’t even flinch. “I did. Bloody tired of that self-righteous, know-it-all tosser. Ruling by fear is not a set up for engendering loyalty.”

 

She smiled. “Should have trusted you to do the job.”

 

Spike returned her expression. “The undead SEAL team was a little over the top.”

 

“Why’d you run?”

 

He shrugged. “Didn’t know it was you behind the attack. Can’t be too careful, and Abbadon has pissed off a lot of people.”

 

“That’s true.” Shireen’s eyes stayed firmly on Spike, but she gave the smallest of nods toward Buffy. “Is this the contact?” 

 

Buffy felt her anger continuing to bubble and grow, but she managed to somehow hold back. She was waiting for Spike to give her a signal of some sort.

 

“Yeah. This is her,” Spike said, a little softness in his tone despite the shortness of his words.

 

Shireen continued to not acknowledge her physical presence, but there was jealousy there. Yes, there was. “You know her. Who is she?” 

 

Spike waved a dismissive hand toward Buffy. “Helene. She’s an old flame from L.A. Didn’t know it’d be her.”

 

“And yet, you fucked her.”

 

“Yeah. We had a reunion of sorts. What’s it to you?” Spike sounded annoyed. “Last I knew, I was a free agent.”

 

Shireen reached out again and tugged down the collar of his shirt. A pout graced her lips. “She bit you.”

 

“She likes it rough.” His words had a hint of a growl at the end of them.

 

Buffy’s mind skipped to the dilapidated building in Sunnydale that fell apart all around them. She smiled. She liked it gentle and slow, and she liked it hard and fast. She liked it all the ways with Spike. 

 

“I like it rough.” Shireen rang a long-nailed finger over his neck. 

 

He didn’t move away, but his message was firm. “I told you that I don’t mix business and pleasure.” 

 

“And I thought you were thinking about that.” She grasped his collar and pulled him close.

 

Spike took a step back, his head moving away from hers. “I thought about it.” 

 

“And?” Shireen drew closer again, her fingernail pressing into his lower lip.

 

Buffy had had enough. Her legs moved of their own accord, and she slipped her arm around Spike’s elbow. “He said he doesn’t mix business and pleasure, and I’m his current source of pleasure.” And if she had her way, his only. 

 

Shireen glared at her. “And yet, you have a message for me, do you not? I call that business.”

 

Her eyes glowing yellow, Buffy met Shireen’s glare with one of her own. “With you. Not him.”

 

With an eye roll worthy of a thirteen-year-old Dawn, Shireen held up her hand and snapped her fingers. “While you may have a message for me, you are currently interrupting a conversation between me and Pulan, who if he plays his cards right, will be my new right hand.” A handful of demons and vampires approached Buffy, surrounding her. “And you need to go away. Now.”

 

Fists balling, Buffy shifted into her fangs and ridges, the transition swift and smooth as adrenaline shot through her veins. The way she was feeling right now, she could take them all down. She afforded Spike a glance, and his eyes full of worry, he shook his head. She relaxed but only a fraction. 

 

He reached for Shireen’s shoulder and gently touched her. “Don’t be rash, pet. Helene has information. Important information. Give her a bit to cool off, and we’ll all talk.” Spike meant that Buffy needed to give Shireen time to cool off, right?

 

Shireen closed her eyes and touched her hand to his like they were lovers. “Fine. But she needs to be away. And she needs to take a shower.” She paused. “As do you.”

 

“I’ll shower, and then, we’ll talk,” Spike said quietly.

 

“Good.” Shireen addressed the guards surrounding Buffy. “Take her to the guest rooms on the eighth floor. Don’t let her out of your sight until she’s locked in.”

 

Buffy went along with the ride in the nondescript elevator, sliding back into human guise as the demon-vampire posse escorted her to the eighth floor, down two hallways, and basically pushed her into the guest quarters, which turned out to be a modern suite complete with large shower, king-sized bed, living room area, and food computer. When the door shut firmly behind her, she went through the whole space, searching for cameras, potential exits, and traps. This kept her busy for all of twenty minutes, and finding nothing of note – not even a window, she found herself pacing the rooms in anxiety, wondering if she should call on Willow and Dawn now. She was close to reaching out in desperation, but she knew Spike would want her to wait, so she did with great reluctance. Her heart was heavy with dread. 

 

When two hours had passed with no sign of Spike, she locked herself in the bathroom, set her bag on the counter, shoved her clothing in the portable cleaners, and turned on the water. She was scared to wash off his scent lest she jinxed him, but the hot liquid beckoned her tense and exhausted muscles. She took a quick shower, used the shower’s drying feature because there were no towels, and then re-donned her now clean clothes. Then, she drank half the blood in her thermos. After eating, she felt suddenly exhausted, so she laid on the bed and clutched the souvenir football to her chest, her eyes drifting closed.

 

The polite knock on the door jolted her out of her half-doze, and she practically flew off the bed, forgetting the toy football on the bedspread. She couldn’t open the door, so she had no idea why the knock, but when the door disappeared and she saw Spike, her fleeting wonder dissipated. His eye swollen was shut, his lip bloody, and his ankle twisted. He leaned heavily on a grey-skinned demon with reptilian purple eyes. Shireen was lucky that Buffy didn’t smell anything else on Spike.

 

Rushing forward, she slid one arm around his waist and took his arm around her shoulders. The demon was extremely accommodating, which she ignored in favor of helping Spike to the bed. As soon as he was sitting on the edge of the mattress, she studied him from head to toe, assessing the damage with a practiced eye. 

 

Without glancing up, she addressed the demon, “Little help? Got any first aid stuff?”

 

The demon said nothing and strode to the food computer. He murmured a few words in another language and pushed a button. A cup appeared on the indented platform, and Buffy smelled blood – not the synthetic stuff but real human blood. Her bloodlust stirred awake. God, it smelled good.

 

Making brief eye contact with the demon, she accepted the warm mug. “Thank you.” Then, blocking out the urge to take a long drink of the rare blood, she perched next to Spike and held the blood to his lips. 

 

Spike smiled, one hand balancing the sustenance and the other clasping her hand. “I’m okay, love.” His words sounded strong at least.

 

“You don’t look okay. Drink it,” she urged. “Or I will.”

 

He emitted a halfhearted chuckle, gulped it down, and then appeared drained. He shifted around to lean back against a propped pillow. “Thanks, Henry.”

 

The demon pulled over a chair, swung it around so that the back was in front of him, and sat. “You’re welcome.” His English was thick and a little garbled. And did Buffy detect a hint of Southern drawl? 

 

Spike waved a tired hand at Henry when he saw Buffy’s confusion. “Henry here is on our side.”

 

“Huh?” Buffy had no idea how to respond or what to say. 

 

“Been here six months,” he reminded her. “Ferreted out the allies.” 

 

“Allies?” Buffy studied Henry, who inclined his head, his muscular forearms propped casually on top of the chair.

 

Henry made a sound that sounded like the mix between a cough and a gag, and Buffy belatedly realized he was laughing. “All two of us. Don’t agree with Shireen’s management. She’s got everyone else under her talons, but not me and Jules.”

 

“Henry’s girlfriend,” Spike added. “She’ll be along shortly. She’s Shireen’s stylist and therefore a good source of information.”

 

“Girl talk,” Henry explained with the shrug of one spiked shoulder.

 

“Oh.” Buffy gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Makes sense.” Feeling slightly more comfortable if Spike trusted this Henry-character, she asked, “What happened?”

 

Spike opened his arm, and Buffy gladly snuggled up next to him, relieved to have the continued reassurance of his momentary safety. “Shireen punished me for you, love. She’s not used to not getting her way. Ended up telling her a bit of your message but not because she knocked me around. Figured I should throw her a bone or end up on the dusty end of a bit of wood. And before you get your knickers in a twist, the chit knows she has to keep you around because if you’re not alive, Magnus and Kathleen will nix the whole meeting.”

 

“Which is still set for,” Buffy checked her internal computer, “tomorrow.”

 

“Right. And it gives us time to investigate. Find out what Shireen really has up her sleeve.”

 

Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “You need to rest. And drink more blood.”

 

“Jules is coming by later,” Henry offered. “She and I were going to take y’all to Shireen’s lab. I haven’t been there, but I do have the security clearance, and Jules has Shireen’s passwords.”

 

Spike held out the now empty mug to Henry. “Jules was a hacker in her other life.”

 

“And you guys haven’t figured it out before now because. . . ?” Buffy felt an uneasiness gaining strength in the pit of her stomach.

 

“Timing was never right, and now we’ve run out of time,” Henry said, crossing the room to refill Spike’s blood. 

 

“And somehow, that sounds too familiar.” Buffy shivered and then pushed up from cuddling with Spike to facing him, her eyes glowing with obstinacy. “You will stay here and rest, Henry will stay with you, and Jules and I will investigate. I need you to be strong tomorrow. And you’re not allowed to die. . . again.” She needed him to be healed and whole for too many reasons to communicate. “That clear, mister?”

 

“I’m not going anywhere. Not anymore. I promised you, right?” Spike hesitated, searching her face. He seemed to be taking in the stubborn set of her jaw and crossed arms. “Be careful, love.” He meant that the same was true for her with the no-dying part. 

 

Glad that her message was clear, she resumed her position next to him, kissing his cheek as she settled in again. “I promise to be all-with-the-caution girl.”


	11. 2075

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thenewbuzwuzz, this chapter is for you! :o)

**2075**

 

_The fall night in Minnesota was cold and wet with sleet. The wind that came with the first freeze trailed frosty fingertips over her bare hands and face and whipped her damp hair off her shoulders. The scythe’s handle was slick in her hands, and she gripped it in a vain effort to feel more in control._

_The clouds covered the stars in a thick white blanket while the full moon fortuitously peeked its face between wisps of water vapor to light the open field._

_Her vampire stood ready at her side, his duster traded for a coat like hers. Both jackets were lined with the material from a NASA space blanket. The material kept her warm enough for short periods, and the upcoming battle would, too, even if she didn’t sweat anymore._

_Bundled even more like Eskimos, Willow and Dawn gazed out over the land to her right, faces equally pensive, magic-night-vision-y goggles covering their eyes._

_Turned out that the lone porcupine demon she and her partner had slain near her back porch all those years ago in Sunnydale had friends – lots of them. They held a grudge and crossed dimensions to wreak vengeance for their fallen comrade. She could see the quills on their backs glinting in the moonlight even hundreds of yards away, their sheer numbers rolling over the earth like blowing shafts of wheat – dangerous shafts. Their voices were chittering in little squeaks and whines, the noise eerily ominous even from far away._

_“I guess they don’t hibernate,” Dawn murmured, brandishing her sword, her breath creating swirls of condensation as she spoke._

_“Porcupines don’t hibernate, lil Bit,” Spike confirmed, his voice carrying over the sound of the trees rustling behind them._

_“I always thought they were cute and kinda cuddly,” Willow admitted, her tone full of irony, green-lit magic crackling between the fingers of her hovering hands._

_Dawn frowned. “Cuddly? With those spikes?” Someone snorted, and Dawn continued, “Well, I know Buffy’s Spike is cuddlesome because I’ve seen them all with the cuddles, but. . . really porcupine quills are along the lines of ‘that’s pointy’ and ‘ouch.’”_

_Willow’s laugh was real and loud – too-loud-for-a-graveyard or impending-doom loud, “You sound like Xander.”_

_“My sister was married to him.” She squinted her vampire vision toward the advancing spiky surge._

_“I miss him.” The witch’s voice was heavy with still potent grief and sadness._

_“So, say we all,” the Slayer whispered. Her eyes flicked to her lover. “Except maybe Spike.”_

_His blue eyes were clear with the truth of his next words. “Got used to the bloke. He mellowed with age.”_

_She laughed. “That and you both liked cats and video games.”_

_The giant hedgehogs were suddenly very close, their tiny feet making intimidating scuffling noises against the hardening ground._

_Wiggling her stiff fingers, she shivered from the cold and the anticipation. “Focus. We have to focus. You sure you’re up for this, Dawnie?”_

_The key and witch exchanged the briefest of glances, and Dawn reassured her sister, “Yes, ma’am. I am.”_

_“Remember. Wait for my signal,” Willow commanded, her voice taking on the resonance and depth of power that was primed for expression._

_“When we’re surrounded and fighting for our bloody lives.” He unsheathed his own sword. No fist and fangs for this battle; she didn’t want one of those baby blues or his brains poked out by a well-timed barb. She trembled at the idea of losing him._

_“Yep,” Willow admitted with a touch of youthful abashment and a bit too much enthusiasm._

_“Here we go!” Dawn’s voice swelled over the rattling of the porcupine quills as the quartet was suddenly thrust into the thick of things – metal sliding past demon defenses with ease and magic zapping creatures unconscious._

_Words were lost to the oblivion of the battle, and tiny demon bodies began piling up all around them as the clouds parted to allow starlight to join the moon in lighting the unlikely scene. Soon, they were all shot through with pointy shafts, and she could smell the coppery tang of human and demon blood mingling in the swirl of the arctic wind._

_Willow raised her hands and a flash of emerald pulsed into the sky above them and then drifted down in a leisurely fall that defied gravity. The vampires and key caught the signal and somehow managed to draw together again until they were back to back, slashing at the never-ending wave of sharp beasts._

_As the witch’s protective magic coated them in the faintest of green lights, Dawn drew between the three. There was a jerk to their muscles and then a popping sound before a powerful pull tugged them backward as a different sort of magic flowed toward and then above them in a rainbow of yellows, blues, greens, and reds like an aurora borealis of magic against the blackness of the night. The colors reached a peak and then swept outward at a rapid clip until all the porcupine demons were surrounded._

_Her sister’s disembodied voice resounded over the whole battlefield in a melody of ancient words and phrases. The air shimmered with power and then a very different world melted into place, blotting out the trees and the sky and the moon and stars._

_They were in another dimension of towering trees with thick trunks and lush plants and heat that contrasted sharply with the Minnesota cold. Strange animal sounds squawked and growled and shrieked, and the porcupine demons were swept up in the confusion of the new environment._

_Then, in the blink of an eye, the new forest and porcupine demons were all gone as if they’d never been on Earth. Dawn’s body hit the ground as the frigid temperatures and the darkness slid back into place._

_“Dawnie,” she cried in fear, dropping the scythe with a thud, shedding her vampire visage, and joining her sister on the ground. She swept the damp hair off her sister’s face. She was still breathing, still alive, her heart thudding fast and strong in her chest. “You did it.”_

_A little breathless, Dawn smiled and opened her now goggle-less azure eyes as the others joined them. “I opened a door to the other world. Their world.”_

_“And you closed it. You did good, pigeon.”_

_“And they won’t be coming back,” Willow said with assurance._

_“They won’t?” she asked, grasping her sister’s warmer hand. They hadn’t discussed this part of the mission – just the opening-the-doorway-to-another-dimension bit._

_Dawn’s eyes were filled with exhaustion but backlit by pride and satisfaction. “I locked off the dimension and threw away the key. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Because I’m the key. Except I didn’t throw myself away. Get it?”_

_The rest of the group emitted a collective, half-amused groan._


	12. Present day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This (very long) chapter is written especially for Magnus and Kathleen. *hugs* Thanks for all you do!

**Present day**

 

In their digging, Buffy and Jules had discovered what Shireen was going to do, and it was too scary to fathom. Of course, Shireen had found out that her security had been breached, so she killed Henry and Jules – their bodies tortured, mutilated, and paraded in front of Magnus and Kathleen, the vampire leaders of the other faction, who had arrived by shuttle early in the morning. Buffy was sure that the only reason she hadn’t been killed was that she was needed in negotiations.

 

After the deaths, Shireen had immediately ushered the vampires along with Buffy and Spike on board her small ship, and the five of them were now seated around a small oval conference table as the ship cruised across Austin. 

 

Spike had recovered well from ingesting the human blood and sat to Buffy’s right. Shireen had forced him to dress all in white, which felt all kinds of wrong to Buffy. His left leg was firmly against hers, a constant reminder that he was here with her. 

 

Magnus was on Buffy’s left. His tall form was wedged into the small chair, but he somehow made it appear comfortable. To the subjective eye, he looked like the neighbor next door with an easy smile and casual good looks, but he was a celebrity among the vampire and even the demon crowd. He’d won the interplanetary kitten poker championship seven times now, and there was something about the way his grey-blue eyes sparkled that made people believe they were important. 

 

On the other side of Spike, Kathleen was dressed in grey flowing dress and appeared a lot younger than Magnus with her milky skin, long auburn curls, and brilliant blue eyes, but she was decades older. While Magnus was a leader because of his popularity and presence in the public eye, she was the one who kept him in line. She was the mother hen of the other faction, fair but swift in her punishments. She was a vampire after all. She also loved to cook and was a consummate hostess, and Spike and Buffy had partaken of her spicy enchiladas with blood sauce on more than one occasion. 

 

Things had been fairly amicable between this faction and the human population over the last several years, mostly due to these two, and many, many negotiations. They were the reason that the demons and humans mingled so well at the playoff game on the moon and the reason that Shireen’s faction was so diametrically opposed to the whole operation. 

 

This meeting, therefore, was a miracle. Shireen just didn’t know it was all a farce. Buffy at least hoped that she believed some of it long enough that they could do something to stop her.

 

Shireen was preening in her white dominatrix-y outfit with her hair pulled up in a high ponytail. She looked like she belonged in an over-the-top colorful music video or some sort of demon beauty pageant. A handful of guards were scattered around the group, and Buffy vaguely worried about where the rest of Shireen’s demons and vampires were.

 

With a coquettish smile, Shireen announced, “I have something momentous to share with you though I plan to show rather than tell because who believes words? In the meantime, Magnus and Kathleen, Pulan tells me that you would like to join our faction because you are dissatisfied with your. . . situation with the humans. He also tells me that you have a potential gift for me as a show of your newfound interest in aligning with us.”

 

While Magnus did the earlier schmoozing, Kathleen did the serious negotiating. Her hands carefully placed palm down on the tabletop, she said, “Yes. Many of our group are dissatisfied with having to make so many compromises with the humans. Take the blood supply, for example. There are many vampires who dislike the taste of synthetic blood.” Buffy fought the urge to nod with enthusiasm, and Shireen opened her mouth, but Kathleen barely lifted a finger to stop her and continued, “It’s obviously more than just nitpicky matters like that. Humans place a different value on life than we do, probably because they are so short-lived, and ironically enough, their rigidity around this issue has increased as the Slayer line has dwindled back to one Slayer. Present company excepted. There aren’t many immortal Slayers that I know of.” Kathleen arched a brow. 

 

Shireen bristled. “As far as I know, I’m the only one.” Buffy considered that her sire really did her no favors, and maybe she’d been so focused on the destroying-the-world-as-it-was that she hadn’t put her resources toward knowing about Buffy.

 

“That is no matter,” Kathleen dismissed, her fingers thumping on the smooth table. “What matters is that the majority are wanting us to form an alliance with you and yours; we’re tired of the status quo of constant negotiation. We’ve heard rumors, as you imagine, about your plans to take back the world for our kind though we don’t know how.” 

 

Buffy knew that they were aware of enough that they were here trying to find a way to rid the Earth of Shireen and her faction. Though they weren’t part of the Board, Spike and Buffy had had a lot to do with the peace between humans and the vampires and demons who followed Kathleen and Magnus. There were pockets within the more peace-oriented group that raised hell (no pun intended), but the Board had also staged planned signs of unrest for Shireen’s people to pick up on. The last year or so had been strategic.

 

Shireen positioned herself to mirror Kathleen, flicking her long hair over her shoulder. “And your resources would be most appreciated.”

 

“We have something to offer, of course,” Magnus said with the same laidback charm in his voice. “A gift so to speak.”

 

“I love gifts. What is it?”

 

“Not it. Who,” Magnus clarified. Buffy was carefully neutral, but renewed anxiety sent adrenaline flying through her body. She shifted her legs, adjusting her bag on her lap.

 

Shireen set her chin on her palm, leaning forward toward him. “You are a tease.”

 

Kathleen briefly lifted her eyes to the ceiling in a patented move that Buffy recognized well. Kathleen and Magnus played well together. “She’s a powerful woman.”

 

“More powerful than me?” Shireen gritted her teeth, and Buffy swore that she could feel her fuming magic. 

 

Kathleen rephrased, but not to placate her. “A different kind of powerful. She’s a key. She opens doorways to other dimensions. You want to take over the world. Well, the world will get awfully small, awfully fast. Being able to have someone on your team who has this young lady’s power would be. . . an asset worthy of allowing us to join you.” Buffy almost snorted at Kathleen calling Dawn “young.” Even when she was just placed by the monks into human form, she’d been ancient.

 

Shireen’s dark eyes gleamed, and her face twisted in her smugness. “Hmm. I do like the sound of that.” There was a small bump, and there were some beeping noises coming from the cockpit. Then, they began to slowly descend. “For now, though, allow me to show you what you’d be buying into.” 

 

The ship landed and powered down, and Shireen stood with cocky ease, holding her hand out, palm up, fingers curved like claws. Sparks of magic danced between her fingertips. “Give me a moment.” 

 

As the shuttle door lowered, she went right into the light as no vampire should be able to do, whispered a few words in a language Buffy thought might be Latin, and then shot a stream of magic out and up toward the sky. Without delay, the sky darkened with thick heavy-looking clouds, and thunder rumbled in the distance. 

 

She smiled back at them. “It’s safe to come out now.”

 

“Damn. How did you manage that? You’re not even singed,” Magnus marveled. 

 

Her smile widened into a Cheshire cat grin. “Magic.”

 

“She’s perfected that for a while now,” Spike said, informing the group that this was nothing new. “It only lasts fifteen or twenty minutes. Nifty parlor trick.” 

 

Shireen’s eyebrows drew together, just briefly, her eyes flashing black and then golden. “The perfect amount of time to do what’s needed in most circumstances. Now, come, come.” She started to walk backward, her smile returning. “Follow me. I have more to show you.” 

 

Buffy smelled water and plants and things-that-were-alive. There was also the heady aroma of the storm swirling above and the heavy weight of moisture in the air. They were at the edge of a lake surrounded by low hills and the greenest vegetation that Buffy had seen in a while. She had, after all, been in space, but even on Earth, a lot of the world’s natural landscapes were built upon. As she gazed out over the dock and the water, she noticed that though the air was warm, no one was on the lake. 

 

“This.” Shireen spread her arms wide as the vampire guards fell in line around her. “This is Lake Travis.” She spun her heel to face them and planted her hands on her hips. “You may wonder why I’ve brought you here.” 

 

Thunder punctuated her statement, and Buffy felt a raindrop on her cheek. When no one said anything, Shireen snapped her fingers and pointed the index finger of her right hand at the sky. Lightning swept in an intricate net over them, spreading for miles in all directions. The clap of thunder that came after was so loud that Buffy covered her ears, and she noticed that everyone else did, too, except for Shireen. When the sound and bright light faded, Buffy blinked back red and yellow stars to see that all around the lake, there were. . . figures of all shapes and sizes, figures draped in black with bleached hair on their heads. 

 

This was where Shireen’s army had gone.

 

Buffy shivered, and Spike took her hand, weaving his fingers tightly with hers. This was their signal for one another. Her heart would have skipped a beat if she had a heart that beat; as it was, her heart skipped all the beats. She glanced up at him and saw that his blue eyes were clear and earnest. Then, she looked at Shireen. The vampire was staring out over the lake, her arms spread wide again. She was distracted. Buffy turned on the piece of her computer that Willow had warned would give them all away: she opened a communication channel in her brain but said nothing.

 

Spike didn’t let go of Buffy’s hand even when Shireen turned back toward them. She was too busy staring at Magnus to notice. Kathleen hovered just behind him, her arms crossed. Magnus was nonchalant; he was the kitten poker champion after all. 

 

“So, what is this?” He asked, lifting his hand in a what-the-heck gesture toward the lake. 

 

“If you really want to know, this is the beginning of taking back the world. . . of bringing the night back in full force. All of the time.”

 

“So, call me dense, but I don’t know what you mean. As long as I’ve been on this planet, there’s always been a night for us creatures who prefer the darkness.” Magnus was good at this. 

 

“And after the spell I’m about to cast, that darkness will be all the time. 24-7.” She grinned and then cocked her head to one side. “For half of the planet anyway.”

 

Buffy took a step forward to ask how the hell that would work given the way the laws of the universe functioned, but Spike held her back. She squeezed his hand hard in return, annoyance shooting through her even though she knew he was right. There’d be a time to act, and that was not now. 

 

Instead, Kathleen spoke, the wind blowing her long, red curls. “Just how is that going to work? I mean, there are rules to the way our planet works. I don’t know enough about everything to know that it would throw whole systems off to cast half of Earth in darkness.”

 

Shireen scoffed. “What do you think I’ve been doing for decades? Sitting on my laurels, dreaming up crazy schemes? No.” She glared. “I’m not an idiot. I’ve been working closely with top scientists across a variety of disciplines, and their wisdom has gone into the creation of the spell I will cast. The world will not be thrown off its axis even though lots of living things will die.”

 

“And if you’re wrong?” Kathleen asked, her voice hollow as the wind picked up with more gusto. 

 

“If I’m wrong. That’s where your little key will come in.” Shireen sighed. “But I’m not wrong. In a moment, I will cast a spell that will create a blanket of storms over half the planet, and the storms will harness the power of the sun and channel it into high tech silos across the world to be used as we see fit. Once that power is in place, our system will run itself on its own without need for my continual input. We will take over this half of the world with your help. Then, we will do the same with the other half of the world.”

 

“And what about our food?” Spike asked, violating his own moratorium on talking. “If we’re to eat humans, and if they and their ecosystems cannot survive without sunlight, how will we survive?”

 

Shireen didn’t look at Spike, focusing on Magnus instead. “We have plans for that as well. Blood retrieval facilities. Trust me when I say that it will eliminate the problem of having to negotiate with our food or drink synthetic swill. Enough questions!” She started to walk away from them. 

 

“And if we’re not on board with this?” Buffy asked, emboldened by Spike’s assertion. 

 

Shireen blinked against the wind and gave her a cold smile, and Buffy knew then that she was dust if Shireen’s plan worked. “Look around you. You protest too late.” Tossing her head, she strode to the end of the long dock, her minions trailing behind, with heads somehow held high. They formed a horseshoe around her as she began casting her spell. The water in the lake responded to her influence, waves licking up around her feet and then splashing over the dock so that Shireen was standing with legs spread wide in shallow water.

 

Buffy held tight to Spike’s hand and addressed Kathleen and Magnus. “The channel’s open in my computer. They know our location.”

 

“Perfect,” Kathleen said, trying to hold her hair out of her face and blinking hard to see. “She’s a nutcase.”

 

“You think?” Magnus shuddered. “Thank god for my people skills, but holy hell, she’s crazy and unpredictable.”

 

“Crazy unpredictable,” she agreed. “There’s a reason there are two factions of demons.”

 

“I like my unlife just fine the way it is,” Magnus said.

 

Kathleen shoved him playfully. “That’s because you’re a celebrity.” 

 

“So, what next?” The poker champion was addressing Buffy and Spike.

 

Spike shrugged. “Unfortunately, we wait.”

 

Magnus sighed and glanced around him. “Great. Any plans for what to do against all of them?” He was talking about Shireen’s army of demons and vampires, who were surrounding them.

 

Buffy grinned, wanting to reveal what she and Spike had cooked up with Willow but not wanting to jinx it. “Spike and I’ve faced bigger odds. And,” she inclined her head toward the foliage around them, “plenty of wood around for the vampires anyway.” She shifted into her game face. “And we got fangs.”

 

“As long as we don’t accidentally get staked. And Magnus, if you’d studied your history like you were supposed to as a leader of our faction, you’d know that about Buffy and Spike,” Kathleen chided, sliding on her own fangs and ridges.

 

Magnus rolled his eyes; it was obviously an old argument. “Yeah. Well. That’s what I have you for.” He smirked at Buffy and Spike. “And now, you have us. That’ll help with the odds, right?”

 

“Let’s hope so,” Buffy said, unsure what field hours that Kathleen and Magnus had actually clocked in their unlives and in this new world order.

 

Spike smiled, fangs sharp and ready. “Just remember to watch the blind spot on your left.” 

 

Magnus nodded in all seriousness. “Right.” 

 

Buffy lifted both eyebrows at Spike. 

 

Spike smirked. “What? We’ve sparred. . . sometimes after a long day of negotiating. He’s decent enough for someone who makes a living as a card shark.”

 

“As long as he’s not a literal demon card shark,” Buffy joked. “That guy was annoying and kinda creepy.”

 

Spike rolled his eyes, probably because that happened so long ago, but before he could reply, rain began pouring down in sheets. Shireen’s voice crescendoed, her foreign chanting swirling in an echoing melody that seemed to weave in and out and around the blowing winds. The effect was haunting, and the feel of magic permeated the air in a way that Buffy last and only briefly felt when they’d fought the porcupine demons. 

 

“Should we rush her and take her?” Magnus shouted over the new din, sounding eager. . . eager to get this over with. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his eyes slashes of grey as he squinted against the torrent. 

 

“Do you even remember what she did to her own faction members?” Kathleen asked, her dress clinging to her curves. “You’re crazy. We need back up.”

 

“I got Shireen.” Buffy knew she had to be the one to take the witch-vampire-Slayer, preferably with witch-y back-up. Sadness and anger roiled in her chest. Come on, Willow, she thought without actually saying it to Willow, whom she hoped was on the other end of the brain line.

 

Magnus’s face lit as if he’d just remembered something. He dug around his pocket and produced two rings that he presented to Spike and Buffy. “These are from Willow. They’ll protect you from some of the stuff that usually kills vampires. Sunlight, holy water. But not staking or poison. They’re made of the same material as the medallions Kathleen and I are wearing.”

 

Buffy couldn’t help but smile as she accepted the smaller ring. She slid the jewelry onto her ring finger where it was a perfect fit. “Our very own sort-of Gems of Amarra. Thank you.”

 

Spike slipped on his own band. The rain was making his hair clump in curls over his forehead. He started to speak, but he was cut off again because instead of pouring down, the rain began pouring up. “Bloody hell.”

 

Buffy’s mouth dropped open. She gaped as the chanting continued and the rain defied gravity, flowing up into the clouds in a rush. The water from the lake lifted off as well, small drops at first and then faster and faster until a huge wall of water rushed upward. The effect was almost mesmerizing as the clouds grew darker grey and then black all around them.

 

“Fuck!” Magnus shouted. “Think the fish are in the clouds now?”

 

Kathleen appeared at Buffy’s side. “The bigger storm is forming. What should we do?”

 

“We can’t let her finish the spell!” Buffy hurried to the nearest tree, reached up, and ripped off a branch. She began breaking it up, shoving spare makeshift stakes in her boot, up her sleeve, and even in the open pocket of her bag. They’d have to finish off Shireen before she finished half the world. So much for back-up.

 

Spike moved to help Buffy as she broke off more, and in seconds, everyone was armed. The three watched her with expectation.

 

“Take out the Spike lookalikes first,” she suggested.

 

“That’s the easy part, pet. Even with the water everywhere.” Spike’s expression told her that he was with her even though the chances were long. How many times had they done this now? 

 

Buffy was grim. “I know.”

 

True to Spike’s prediction, the five minions were dusted without issue, and even the water wasn’t a problem because most of the water was now in the sky, leaving a huge muddy crater in the ground where the lake had been. 

 

Letting out a roar, Buffy charged at the vulnerable Shireen’s back next, and the witch didn’t even turn because she was so lost in the spell. When Buffy got within a foot of her target, magical lightning ricocheted through her body, throwing her back and into Kathleen, who’d luckily lowered her stake. They fell over the edge of the dock, landing with a splat in the mud below. 

 

Body still tingling all over as if she’d stuck her finger in an electrical socket, Buffy scrambled to her feet and offered to help Kathleen up because she was struggling in her dress. She refused Buffy’s offer, maybe because she didn’t want to chance getting electrocuted. With a thump, Spike landed next to them, squatting deep but managing to not fall and get coated in mud, and Magnus teetered above before taking the leap. Shireen’s chanting continued above, and the winds were still high even in the bottom of the lake.

 

“Guess traditional brute force attack isn’t going to work,” Magnus observed.

 

“You think?” Kathleen asked. She frowned at her clothing, which was still being uncooperative. “I should have gone with the pants.” She bent and began ripping away the longer skirt. 

 

“You okay, love?” Spike had lines of tension written all over his face.

 

Buffy blinked, trying to shake off the electricity. “I’m fine.” She put a muddy hand on his white-clad chest, marking him as hers. “Really. It wasn’t the same as the tower.”

 

He placed his larger clean hand on top of hers, not caring about getting dirty. “I know. Just checking. You lost your ridges.”

 

Buffy touched her face. “Oh, yeah.” She transformed, her heightened senses getting a boost again. 

 

“Um, guys?” Magnus interrupted. 

 

Everyone spun to face the direction Magnus was staring. The vampires and demons all around the lake were advancing on them with increasing speed and battle cries spilling past their lips. 

 

“Oh, we are so screwed,” Kathleen said, slinging the remnants of her dress over her shoulder. At Magnus’s frown, she added, “Weapon. Since we don’t have much in the way of defenses.” She mimed choking someone. 

 

Magnus’s eyes lit. “Oh. Makes sense. What’re we going to do? I realize the two of you have faced worse, but I’ve played high stakes kitten poker and never faced odds like this.”

 

A slow smile spread over Buffy’s face. “Hate to tell you, Magnus, but you’re wrong.”

 

He scoffed. “You and I both know I’m going to be dust before – ”

 

Spike clapped a hand on Magnus’s shoulder. “Actually, mate, you might stand a fighting chance.” He pointed with his free hand at a spot of yellow light just in the middle of the now waterless lake. “That right there? That’s the bloody cavalry.” 

 

“He’s right,” Kathleen cried out with hope in her voice when she saw the spreading light. “That’s Willow!”

 

“And Dawn!” Buffy felt relief course through her, replacing the shocks from before. Her sister was opening a portal in approximately the place Buffy had signaled from. 

 

Before they could continue any form of celebration, their enemies were upon them. The foursome formed a tight-knit circle, fighting against the raging first wave of vampires and demons. Spike and Buffy had no trouble with watching out for one another, and it soon became obvious that Kathleen and Magnus had fought together, too. Magnus did indeed have a blind spot, which Spike guarded with ease, and Kathleen seemed to catch onto the dance with Buffy as well. 

 

Grunts and growls and the sound of slashing and dusting filled the air. The sharp coppery scent of blood overlaid the musty smell of the lake and rainwater. Demon bodies accumulated around them like layers of sediment. Magnus was wounded first, his shoulder gashed and almost ripped off by claws; his arm hung limp and useless. From the efforts of a stake-wielding vampire, Kathleen had a deep cut in her thigh that was soaking through the remnants of her skirt. Spike and Buffy both had numerous wounds, luckily all of them small. They were the experts on the battlefield after all. 

 

Out of nowhere, Buffy took a blow to the head from an unseen assailant on her left, and she tumbled to the ground with a cry. Spike fought around her, shielding her from attack and from getting trampled, which allowed her a moment to recover. She gazed around, blinking away the stars and peering through legs and fallen bodies to see that the bright light had expanded rapidly, growing in size and scope and shooting out obvious rays of. . . sunlight? There were sudden screams of agony as the light spread over the lake bottom from the direction of Shireen’s approaching army. 

 

It was sunlight! 

 

Buffy panicked a little, the desire to move away from the encroaching light as powerful as any other instinct, and then, she remembered and touched her thumb to the band on her ring finger. What had Magnus said? The jewelry would protect them from sunlight. This was planned. She and Spike had known that Dawn would be opening a portal but didn’t think about the sunlight coming with them.

 

Scrambling on the ground for her makeshift weapon and finding nothing in the muck, her hand dove into the pocket of her bag and pulled out another stake. She hopped to her feet and staked a vampire flying at Spike. 

 

“Sunlight. Coming our way,” she managed, rolling off the broad back of a blue-skinned demon and landing a kick in another’s chest, pushing her away from Kathleen. 

 

“Yep,” Magnus said as he swiped at a vampire, stake landing home. “We’re good to go.”

 

“Perfect. Sunlight’s right handy about now.” Spike’s tone was completely nonplussed as he ducked a charging vampire and then swung the chump toward the light where he screamed as he burst into dust. 

 

As they continued their now much smaller skirmish, Buffy glimpsed the silhouetted outlines of humanoids of various shapes and sizes appearing through the brilliance. 

 

“Looks like our crew is here!” Kathleen shouted, her voice giddy with relief. Her movements, once tired and flagging, suddenly seemed stronger and more precise. 

 

“Hallelujah!” Magnus cried and then cackled with joy, which was much more emotion than he usually let out. “Don’t know how much longer my arm can hang on.”

 

Buffy pushed forward to his weaker side. “You should have said so sooner.”

 

 _Hey, Buffy!_ Willow’s voice sounded full of joy in Buffy’s mind. _Thanks for the heads up! I was getting anxious._

 

Buffy smiled and slid a stake into the chest of a confused looking vampire. _Trust me. The anxiety went both ways. How’s Dawnie?_

 

 _I’m here!_ Her sister sounded exhausted, which Buffy expected given she’d never opened a portal that large. _And we brought all the demons from the other faction and some humans who threw in at the last minute._

 

 _Thank goodness! Sunlight was a nice touch, too, and the jewelry, Willow! You made us our very own rings of Amarra!_ Buffy ducked a roundhouse kick from one demon and tripped up the legs of a vampire who was pouncing on Magnus.

 

 _I did! Sorta. You can still get staked. Be careful. What the hell is this witch Slayer doing?_ Willow sounded indignant. _She’s messing with the whole planetary system. I feel it. She’s an idiot._

 

 _Tell me about it. Think you can mess with her back?_ Buffy’s aching shoulders sagged as demons from the other faction poured in to help them. One of them tossed her a blade of some sort. “Thanks!”

 

“No problem,” a demon with folded turquoise wings said, then used his other weapon to slice off a vampire’s head.

 

 _Of course. Might need your help though. And hey – wait a minute!_ Buffy heard Willow choking. 

 

 _Oh, shit! Buffy! That scary witch Slayer is attacking Willow. I’m not going to be able to hold this portal open without her magic helping it along. What do I do?_ Panic was fueling Dawn’s words. 

 

Buffy paused in the fight and whirled in the direction she assumed her sister and friend were. _Dawnie, can you hold it open another –_ Her mind tried to estimate how much time had passed. How much time had Spike said? _She only has fifteen or twenty minutes in the sun before she goes kablooey!_

 

 _Oh, Buffy. I can’t. I’m so so sorry. It’s too big to hold on my own. I have to let it –_ Dawn’s voice trailed off, and as it did, the portal closed with such rapidity that the contrast felt almost like nighttime or a total eclipse.

 

The clouds were heavy and menacing in their darkness above, as the lightning flashed and the thunder echoed, shaking the land. The scent of daylight was replaced with the smell of imminent rainfall. The fight around them intensified as the demons from Shireen’s faction who survived the sun and evaded the portal joined the fight. Buffy started heading in the direction her computer told her Willow and her sister were, allowing the emotion meter to take her along the fastest route. She swung the blade haphazardly like she was felling trees and not attacking demons, trying in desperation to get closer. 

 

Spike’s voice spiraled into her mind. _Pet? Where are you!?_

 

Buffy paused only a moment. _Spike! Willow’s in danger, and probably Dawn, too. Headed their way. Follow me? Tell Magnus and Kathleen._

 

 _They’re fine now that we have back-up. I’m on my way. Got the coordinates._ Though he went silent, Buffy was confident that he was on her trail. 

 

Her focused scanning paid off at the edge of the battle when she spotted Willow, legs spread wide, her hair flying, not from the wind but from her use of magic as she stood her ground against the equally powerful Shireen whose appearance was somehow untouched by the turmoil she created around her, her makeup precise and her hair un-mussed. Buffy would have rolled her eyes, but she could feel the magic all around her, the weight of it slowing her reactions down. Dawn was cowering behind Willow, crouched close to the ground, a jagged cut on her forehead. Buffy saw that her sister wasn’t completely out of the game. She seemed focused and was murmuring something, but Buffy couldn’t make out the words. 

 

Spike drew up beside her. _Let’s get to the Nibblet, pet. We have to make sure that if Shireen gets through Willow, she’s protected._ There he was – still keeping the promise he’d made all those years ago in Sunnydale.

 

Buffy didn’t say anything, just met his dark gaze and nodded. Then, they moved together, making sure to stay on the periphery of Willow and Shireen’s magical blows. Willow stumbled a bit as they passed behind her but managed to pull herself back up to block Shireen’s furious magical-light-show assault directed at Spike and Buffy. 

 

Buffy reached Dawn first and squatted next to her, her blade landing in the mud, while Spike stood guard over both of them.

 

Her sister had stopped speaking for a moment, her face a mask of frustration. “Hey,” she whispered.

 

Buffy touched her jutted-up knee. “Hey, yourself. What’re you trying to do that you can’t?” 

 

Dawn huffed and closed her eyes. _Trying to open another portal to get rid of that bitch. A-and I can’t seem to summon the energy._

 

Something flashed into Buffy’s mind – a memory of grounding Willow in her bedroom after she returned to Sunnydale, lending her friend her Slayer strength. _Dawnie, listen to me._ She gripped her sister’s hand. _We’re going to block everything out. And you’re going to focus on using my strength to help you._

 

Dawn opened her eyes and made a face at Buffy. _How?_

 

Trying to steel her own heart, Buffy fixed her gaze on her sister’s frightened eyes. _Trust me. You and I – we’re blood. We’re going to use that connection. You’re going to hold my hand and visualize my strength – my power giving you the umph that you need to open that portal. Okay?_

 

 _She’s right, pigeon. I got you two. Not going to let anything happen to my ladies._ Spike didn’t even glance back at them but stood in a ready stance. 

 

Dawn clasped Buffy’s hand tighter and then loosened and wove their fingers together. _Okay._ She closed her eyes with renewed determination on her features. 

 

With the witch’s grunts and cries and the sounds of magic flying through the air as background accompaniment, Buffy’s eyes slipped closed, and she centered on her sister – first the feel of their skin touching, her sister’s hand warm and heavy and alive against hers. Then, she visualized her own strength flowing from the core of her being toward her sister’s. Though she was technically undead, this part of her remained vital and alive and vivid. When the connection was made, Buffy felt the warmth of her sister’s soul as she felt Willow’s all those years ago, and the power transferred. . . just enough that something shifted and strengthened in her sister. Her sister didn’t tug at the energy the way someone else might have, siphoning only what she needed, and then, releasing the connection slowly and easily like they were floating down a river on inner tubes and drifted apart. 

 

They opened their eyes at the same time, and her sister smiled, her face glowing with renewed energy. She bounded to her feet, and Buffy grinned and followed her lead, jerking her weapon out of the muck. She felt Dawn’s magic gaining a foothold in the world around them as she took in what was happening around them. 

 

Willow and Shireen were still at their magical dance while Spike was fending off a group of demons who’d come to barge in on the vulnerable women. 

 

 _Long as you’re okay, I could use a hand here!_ Spike called out to her in her mind. 

 

 _On it!_ Buffy replied brightly. 

 

Somehow, even though she’d shifted her strength toward Dawn, Buffy felt buoyant somehow – like there was hope. She raced over to the closest demon, swung the mud-coated weapon and lopped off his head. Wiping the detritus of the earth and blood on the corpse’s clothing, she headed for the spine-covered demon who was ramming his fists into Spike’s face. The demon reminded her of the demon who’d gutted her on the battlefield in L.A., and this fueled her so that she hacked the demon’s arm, allowing Spike to recover enough to reach up and snap the offender’s neck. Together, they finished off the remaining enemies. 

 

When Buffy turned back toward the other fight being waged, she saw that the skirmish was farther away than before, and she discovered that Willow was weakening. Shireen obviously had the upper hand, slinging bolts of magical lights at Willow’s body. She was managing to fend off most of them but was taking too many hits. 

 

Dawn, on the other hand, was faring far better, and a portal was opening. . . a portal that was darker and colder than her first one. The temperature from the portal licked its way into their world, leaving Buffy shivering, and unlike the other portal which spread sunlight across the land, this portal felt like it was drawing them close, sucking them in. As it widened, Buffy saw pinholes of light in the distance. . . lots of them.

 

 _Oh, my god!_ Buffy cried in Spike’s mind. _She’s opening a portal to space; those are stars!_

 

Spike stood next to her, his legs spread to steady himself. _I believe you’re right, pet._

 

In that moment, Shireen screeched in triumph and hit Willow in the head with a wave of anger-fueled magic, knocking the other witch out and causing her to crumple to the ground. Shireen stalked forward, so caught up in the heat of her own fight that she didn’t notice the person-sized portal near her or the pull of space. 

 

Buffy wished with all her might that Willow would wake up and shove Shireen back, but her friend remained unmoving. Then, Buffy remembered the bag that still hung across her body. She shoved open the flap and frantically rooted around inside until her fingers clasped over the object she sought. It would have to be their Hail Mary.

 

With a burst of energy, Buffy sprinted toward Shireen and Willow as the vampire slung her leg back to kick the fallen witch in the ribs. When Buffy was close enough, she planted her feet. Letting out a scream of fear and anger, she channeled every fiber of her Slayer and vampire instincts and threw the tiny souvenir football as hard as she could right at Shireen’s midsection. As soon as the ball left her fingers, Buffy collapsed to her knees and watched, her stomach in her throat. 

 

Time seemed to move in slow motion as Shireen’s pointed boot arced again but toward Willow’s head, and the ball rocketed toward its target. 

 

The football landed home, catching Shireen so off guard that she bent at an awkward angle and flew backward – right into the reaching icy arms of space and the twinkling radiance of the stars. Recognition of what was happening to her flitted over her face, and Dawn slammed the portal closed behind her.


	13. 2176

**2176**

 

_The tears started as a drop here or there, coursing down her friend’s face. She sensed them, not just from scent but from the way Willow’s shoulders hunched just a little. She was trying to hide the sadness, but that subtle vulnerable motion gave her away every time._

_The universe had always felt wrong when Willow was melancholy._

_They were curled up on the sofa together binge-watching an old comedy show set in New York City about a woman in her forties who went back to work after her divorce but could only find a job if she said she was in her twenties. They even had popcorn, Willow’s drenched in butter and salt, and hers sprinkled with hot sauce and salt. They’d done face masks earlier – with the machine, not the old sheets or clay kind, and it was nice. . . one of the nicest, most relaxing things they’d done together in a long time._

_When the teardrops flowed with greater force and speed, she finally said, “Program pause.” The screen froze, and she shifted sideways to study her friend. “Willow, what’s wrong?”_

_Willow tried to dismiss the query as if she could rewind the tears as simply as a video could be reversed. Turning her head just a fraction, she wrinkled up her face. “Keep going. I’m fine.”_

_“You’re not fine. I’m not as oblivious as I used to be. Talk to me.” But maybe she was. How did she not know that her friend was carrying around such sorrow?_

_The witch hesitated, and then, the rise in her shoulder relaxed, tension eased a bit for being recognized. Her gaze remained fixed on the puffs of corn in her bowl, but she managed, her voice soft, “I never asked to be immortal. You know?”_

_Talk of life and death regarding family and friends always made her anxious even after so many years, but now wasn’t the time to share that. Instead, she asked, “What do you mean?”_

_Willow shrugged, just a brief motion, tufts of red hair falling loose from her bun. “I didn’t expect it. Didn’t want it. It was sort of reassuring that even though I had all this power – this connection with the Earth – that I was still human enough to age, to have a life, to someday die. Instead, this connection I have with magic and the world means I don’t age and won’t die. Not anytime soon.” Her teeth worried with her lower lip. “I-I know that sounds stupid maybe, but how do you plan a future when you don’t have an end in sight? Anchoring points are important.”_

_A flash of annoyance flitted through her. How could Willow not appreciate life? She had people who loved her, people who would be lost without her. Willow was dependable, loyal, and loving, barring that brief sojourn into darkness that was now like a droplet in the ocean of a long life. Even that had been driven by love. . . love lost. “Did something happen?”_

_The familiar wrinkle appeared between the witch’s eyebrows. “No. . . well, yes. I don’t know.”_

_She let out a short laugh. “Which is it?”_

_“Yes and no. I’m tired of the same old, same old.” Willow moved around to mirror her friend, popcorn bowl coming with her. “You know how when we were younger, we used to imagine what we’d do someday? What our life purpose would be?”_

_“Yeah. I remember not thinking I had one past the age of say twenty if I was lucky.” She was teasing a bit, but only to push Willow on._

_She lifted her head, looking younger than she had in a long while though her eyes betrayed her. “Well, I found mine. Witch extraordinaire! Peacemaker among people! Loving partner! Well, not really the last one. God, who knew that I’d go so long without a connection like what you and Spike have? It’s like I ran out of soulmates after Oz and Tara. And don’t tell me that I’ll never know when love will find me. It’s been too long, and that’s too trite.”_

_“I wasn’t going to say that.” She fiddled with a bit of popcorn, the orange-red of the sauce darkening her fingernail like a slip of a blood moon._

_“I’m tired, Buffy. So tired of all of it. The Board is driving me crazy, and I’m sick of the pandering to members and tiptoeing around topics. The same damned debates get dragged up over and over, and I handle them in the same old way. Sometimes. . . sometimes I think I might be going a little bit insane. And insanity is not a good look on me.” Her mouth tilted to one side._

_“I’m not worried. Seriously though, maybe you need to switch jobs. Want me to step up more? Or Spike? I know we were keeping us on the down low, but how long are we going to do that?” They’d been working from the sidelines as part of Willow’s team as a way to keep some independence, but it seemed that it was at a cost to their friend. “Don’t know if Spike could handle the pandering without losing his temper, but I could probably tolerate it enough to get by.”_

_Willow laughed. “No. I think maybe I need to go on a vacation. Or go on a retreat. Those witches in Iceland extended me an open invitation last time the Board consulted with them about the tree nymphs in Latvia.”_

_“You should go. I think we could hold down the fort for a while. You can recharge and rediscover your life’s purpose. I have no doubt that you have one. . . or maybe even more than the ones you listed. Maybe you’ll fall in love under the Northern Lights and the stars. Maybe you won’t even want to return to your job here.”_

_Willow threw a handful of popcorn at her and blushed. “If I did go on a vacation, I’d come back. You know I would. And I highly doubt I’d find love up there. Too cold for me.” She fell against the back of the sofa, sighing as her arm hit the cushion. “I can’t take a vacation even if I wanted to. Some sort of subcommittee is forming about opening dimensional portals. I volunteered because well, Dawnie. I figured if the Board is going to regulate travel, I should have a say in it as a way to protect your sister.”_

_The piece of popcorn suddenly crumpled between her fingers. “Is it something we should be worried about?”_

_“No. I don’t think so. There’s just a couple of people who like to throw their weight around, get all blustery for nothing, so they can get petted. I’m good at that. It’ll be fine.” Willow flipped around so that her back was flush with the sofa. She gave a small shake of her head as if trying to throw off her emotions like a coat she could slip off and stow away in the back closet of her mind. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dump all that on you. Can we go back to having a good time on our girls’ night? Start the show.”_

_“Okay. If you’re sure.” The doubt was clear._

_“I’m surer than sure.” The patented resolve face came out for a visit as she brushed away her tears._

_She wasn’t biting. “It’s okay, you know. To have your feelings and to tell me. I’m always here for you.”_

_“I know.” Willow nodded and then turned back toward the television. “Program resume.”_

_The show began playing, the older woman flirting with the younger tattoo artist._

_“And immortality is no joke.” She threw spicy popcorn back at the witch. She and Spike had a very loving relationship, but it wasn’t always easy, not with eternity stretched out before them. Sometimes, she very much wanted him to be the resident of a dustpan, and she was sure he felt the same about her even though she knew they’d both be devastated without the other. Commitment took on a whole new meaning when their time was unending._

_“I keep forgetting that you get it.” Willow took a bite with kick and made a face. “Your popcorn is disgusting.”_

_“Says you. And I do. Get it. Sometimes you don’t understand what you’re asking for until it’s real.”  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incidentally, the TV show they're watching is Younger, and if you haven't seen it, it's worth a look. Love it!


	14. Epilogue: Present day, three months later

**Epilogue: Present day, three months later**

 

Buffy stared at the ring on her hand; it was a part of her now. Her finger still stung from when Willow had magically soldered the metal to Buffy’s finger, so it wouldn’t come off. She would always be protected from the dangers of the sun as long as she kept her finger. She only wished she felt like enjoying the sunlight.

 

Like the permanence of her new jewelry, she still couldn’t shake the morose feelings even in a trip back to the moon for a vacation. 

 

Spike scooped her hand up in his. His ring was equally enduring, and the metal was cool against Buffy’s fingers. “Sadness doesn’t stay behind even when you leave, eh, love?”

 

Her eyes brimmed at the tenderness in his soft voice. She shrugged the shoulder closest to him, her clothes brushing over his. She was grateful for his closeness on the seat next to her. She felt safe and held even though they were surrounded by several other travelers, most murmuring excitedly about their upcoming vacation plans. 

 

“I don’t think they made the decision to go lightly.” He was repeating her earlier words, but they weren’t as reassuring now that what happened was a reality. 

 

“I know.” She sighed and swallowed back her tears. “I’m so angry at the Board for forcing their hand.” 

 

“I get that, pet. I do. But I don’t think that the Board’s sanctioning Willow and Dawn for opening portals was what pushed them to leave.” 

 

“It didn’t help though, did it? I mean, we saved the world. . . again, and all of us spent three months helping clean up the other faction’s mess. Thank god Kathleen and Magnus advocated for all of us. And still – still the Board disapproves. It’s just like the stupid Council of Watchers all over again.” Buffy knew she sounded irritated. All her muscles were abruptly tight in agreement. “Willow, I get. I mean, she’s hinted a few times that she was unhappy with immortality and with the way her life is going. B-but I didn’t expect Dawn to – ” Fresh tears welled, and emotion caught in her throat. Her little sister had gone with Willow. 

 

Spike let go of her hand, and she almost sobbed until his arm went around her shoulders. He rubbed her upper arm in soothing strokes, helping her regroup. “You’ll see them again.”

 

“Who knows when though. Dimensional travel is tricky. All those alternate ways time moves. It could be hundreds of years.” The pessimistic thought felt true. “T-that’s a long time. A lot could change. What if they can’t find us? What if they change their mind and don’t want to come back? What if they get stuck in another dimension and we can’t help? What if one of them dies? What if we die?”

 

“There’re a lot of variables in dimensional travel. And your thoughts are spiraling.” There was a hint of sadness and a tinge of humor in his tone.

 

“So what if they are?” She sniffed. 

 

“So, I know your sis and Willow. The pull between you is strong. They’ll find their way back; you haven’t heard the last of them. What did they say? Remind me.” He was leading her along, trying to bring her out of her head. She knew that he knew what they’d said; he’d heard the same thing she had. 

 

Then, something hit her. He was asking her because he needed reassurance, too. He loved them as much as she did. Her un-beating heart aching for him, she threaded her fingers with his and held tight. Air pushed past his lips, letting her know that she was right. “Willow said she was done with the Board and needed a break from the tedium. When I asked her why she didn’t just retire, she said the world was too small to get away, and I-I think almost getting killed did something to her, too. Dawn was feeling something similar, I think. She wants to rediscover herself. Stretch her portal-opening wings. She’s not as close with her family as she used to be.” Truth be told, Buffy wasn’t as close with Xander and Dawn’s progenies either. There was a distance there because they were mortal that Buffy didn’t think she understood until she was immortal. That’s why Willow and Dawn leaving for now felt so devastating. It was like Buffy was losing her right arm. 

 

“Where’d you go in your head?” Spike asked gently. 

 

She looked up at him. “Should we have gone with them? Would you have wanted to see new worlds?” 

 

His blue eyes were sheened with tears, and he sniffed, the sound betraying his sadness. “Love, I go where you go, remember?”

 

“Yes. I remember. And I go where you do.” She held her mouth up for a kiss, and he acquiesced. “But, you have a say, too. We’re equal opportunity here.” She poked him in the chest.

 

He shrugged. “I know. But my feelings run opposite of theirs. I’m looking forward to the quiet of our new endeavor.” He was referring to Paul, one of Giles’s descendants, who ran a small private investigation firm in what used to be Houston. Willow had been in contact with Paul, and he’d asked her to join him first, but when Willow had made her decision to go, he’d eagerly jumped on the chance to work with Buffy and Spike instead. 

 

Buffy smiled. “I am, too. It’ll be our new adventure.” 

 

“We will see them again. I have no doubt.” 

 

“I hope you’re right.” She teetered on the edge of despair again. She shook her head as if that could shake out the melancholy. “You’re right,” she amended.

 

Spike kissed her temple, and she leaned into the affection.

 

The shuttle’s computer came online. “First stop, Buffy Summers and William Pratt.” God, it was nice to hear their own names on a regular basis again.

 

Buffy sat up in surprise, peering out the window to discover that they were starting a descent toward the moon. “What is this? We have our own stop?” 

 

Grinning, Spike swiped a tear off her cheek. “We do.”

 

Eager for the landing to happen already, Buffy bounced to the edge of her seat, tried to catch a glimpse of the surprise through the pane, and then gave Spike another kiss when that failed. She stroked his cheek, her body coming alive with the gesture. “How is it that you never fail to surprise me with something?” He hadn’t always understood what kind of surprises she liked, but now he knew her inside and out. And if there were ever chains involved, it was totally with her permission. 

 

He removed her hand and nudged his nose against hers. “Now, before you get too excited, wait and see what it is.” 

 

She made a face at him but saw he was genuinely nervous. There was something about the seriousness and worry in his eyes. It wasn’t his I-know-I’m-in-trouble, half-guilty expression. She decided that he was probably nervous about whether she would like the surprise. “I’m going to love whatever it is. Promise.” He offered her a half-smile, and she tried to read what else was there. She wasn’t sure, but she thought it was maybe related to Willow and Dawn. . . and maybe even Dru and Angel. “I’m not going to get tired of you. You know that, right? I’m not longing for anything or anyone else. I don’t need anything over the top to be happy. Being with you is what makes me happy. No matter what we do. Whether we go dimension hopping or we’re stuck in the middle of an apocalypse or we’re just sleeping in on a Saturday. I’m not going to be done with you ever.” 

 

He ducked his head as he often did when his emotions were strong, and a small smile graced his lips. “I know. I suppose I’m just as rattled by them leaving as you.” 

 

She leaned forward and kissed his chest over where his un-beating but very much alive heart was. “And that’s one of the many reasons I love you.”

 

The shuttle came to a stop, and a short series of beeps emitted from the exit. After the sequence finished, the pressure released and the door began opening. Spike stood and grabbed their suitcases from the bin overhead. Buffy took one of the bags from him. They wove their way past a mix of human and demon teenagers, chattering about some amusement park ride, and a family with small children, bouncing up and down in their seats. 

 

Guiding her floating bag through the air, Buffy exited first and found herself in a small narrow hallway, no scanners or anyone to check them in like on the main moon colonies. The walls were a light grey color and the marble floors matched. A burgundy doorway appeared at the end of the hall as she walked closer. 

 

“Where are we?” she asked in confusion. 

 

“Go on. Open the door,” Spike urged. 

 

“Not without you!” Buffy grabbed his hand and led them both forward. Taking a deep breath, she placed her palm on the locking mechanism. The computer did a quick scan, and the door dissipated before them. The room décor was awash in dark greys and deep reds, complete with a king-sized bed and large seating area with a sofa and floating recliners. A food computer was housed alongside the room’s control system. The ceiling arched overhead in a tall light grey dome. 

 

Buffy went further into the room to try out the bed, bouncing on the edge and staring at the curiously blank wall directly across from her. The mattress and blankets were soft. She really wasn’t sure what was so great about a room separate from the rest of the colony and far away from the fun restaurants and other activities. It’s not like the resort rooms weren’t soundproof.

 

Falling back on her elbows, she watched Spike playing with the room computer, and when he let out a little curse, she asked, “What’s wrong?” 

 

“Nothing,” he half-snapped. Then, he softened and glanced over his shoulder. He shed his jacket and tossed it on the bed. “Just give a fellow a minute.” 

 

“Okay.” She watched him with patience – the vampire who tried so hard to give her everything. 

 

Several seconds later, Spike pushed a few more controls, and the computer emitted a little trill. “There,” he said in triumph. Joining Buffy on the bed, he pulled her onto his lap and held her close. 

 

“What’re we waiting for?” 

 

He nipped at her ear with a smile on his lips. “Just wait.” 

 

Buffy blinked and all the blank grey spaces in the room disappeared, replaced by barely perceptible protective panes. Like in the hallway to the Moon Saloon, her mouth dropped open, and she gazed around in wonder. In her peripheral vision, she saw the bed and the floor, the computer, the food dispenser, the rocky surface of the moon, and the giant structures of the colonies in the distance. These things grounded her and kept her from being disoriented because she was consumed by the blackness of space and the stars. . . oh, the stars.

 

There were billions of stars – billions of glittery, golden-white pinpricks of light all projecting brilliant radiance on their own solar systems and sending signals across time and space to mesmerize her with their beauty. 

 

Despite needing no oxygen, she was in breathless awe at the beauty and splendor of the heavenly bodies and at her realization.

 

Buffy slid off Spike’s lap, and as she did, her eye caught the glimmer of something just beyond where the grey wall had been. As her mind acknowledged this, her nose caught up to her sight, and she smelled. . . water?

 

She glanced back at Spike as he sat on the bed surrounded by stars. He watched her with such love in his indigo eyes that she felt waves of desire rolling through her body. She and Spike were inextricably bound up in the heavens though their feet were on the ground. She hadn’t always believed that, but she believed it now. He nodded at her, urging her to turn back around.

 

With some reluctance, she obeyed, taking one step, then more. As she reached the place where the grey wall had been, she saw a beautiful, smooth pool of water spread out before her, the liquid black as ebony, black as the night sky. She shivered, longing to feel the slip of the water over her skin, yearning to feel him against her in the water. 

 

Without thinking, she took the edge of her blouse, sweeping the fabric over her head and letting it fall behind her. She pivoted then, sliding off her boots and socks and pulling off her black linen pants. As the clothes piled up, she wondered vaguely what he was waiting for – then he was upon her, his fingers unclasping her bra and skimming over her skin to the lace of her underwear. 

 

Her body was aflame now, and she gasped before catching his mouth with hers for a brief passionate kiss as she tore off his shirt. His lips moved hungrily over hers as he rid himself of his pants and revealed just how much he already wanted her, but she backed up and away, momentarily breaking their connection. She almost slipped on the marble, but he caught her, and then, her bare feet found the textured border around the pool. As she regained her balance, she stroked him with gentle pressure so that he groaned and closed his eyes. 

 

Letting go of him then, she stepped back into the warm water and discovered that there was a gentle incline. His eyes were full of desire as he watched her back slowly into the deepening water, bending her legs until her shoulders were submerged. She smiled, beckoning him to follow her, and he did, crossing the distance much more quickly until his shoulders were equally covered. 

 

With his feet firmly planted, he gripped her buttocks and pulled her hips close to his so that she emitted a soft shriek. Then, he swept her deeper into the water, his longer legs holding them in place as he pushed her against the other side of the pool. With tenderness, he flipped her gently around so that she was spooned against his body, his hard penis between her legs. 

 

She held onto the edge of the pool, fingertips scraping over the hard surface. Wiggling against him, she ground her hips back against him. She wanted him inside her. 

 

He didn’t give in but held her still, his breath over her ear in gentle puffs as he whispered, “I love you, pet. More than you’ll ever know.” He paused. “Look at the stars.” His words weren’t a command but carried weight to her, so she looked at the beautiful celestial bodies all around them. She felt so small. He pressed his lips to her earlobe and then her neck, his face shifting, fangs gliding out. He nicked her neck just enough to draw a hint of blood. She drew air in sharply, her hunger and desire for him mingling at the coppery scent of decadence. “I promised the stars to you all those years ago.” The fingers of his left hand slid over her belly and down to her clit where he teased her so that she saw a different set of stars and her breathing became a touch ragged. To her dismay, she felt him hesitate. 

 

Her eyes opened to nature’s splendor, and she spun in his arms, water rolling in waves around them. Her arms draped loosely over his shoulders, and her legs went lightly around his hips. She studied his golden eyes and all his ridges – evidence of his demon. He leaned forward and licked the trail of blood off her neck, and she moaned in pleasure and shifted, too, her own fangs and ridges transforming her face. He was her world in a universe of uncertainty. 

 

She emitted a hiss of pleasure as his fingers found their way inside her, plunging in and out in small motions. The only sound was their breathing and the soft sound of the water rippling. Her own hand found its way back to his member, and she resumed stroking him as he pleasured her until she couldn’t wait anymore. 

 

“Please,” she whispered. Her hands moved up, one hand cupping his cheek, the fingers of her other hand tangling in his curls.

 

He growled and shoved her back so hard that she barely had time to brace herself on the pool wall, liquid splashing up with the motion. She gasped as he entered her, and she closed her eyes, focusing on the sensation of their joining as he moved slowly in and out of her, increasing speed and force in increments until she was gripping the pool edge behind her. Too soon, her voice cried out over the tumult of the choppy waters, echoing in the small chamber as she climaxed, her orgasm rippling through her body like an exploding sun. He came shortly after with a low roar. 

 

Shifting back into human form, they clung to one another after, their bodies vibrating and pulsing together with the aftershocks of their lovemaking. They drifted toward the middle of the pool in their sated state, muscles relaxing and loosening. She laid her head on his shoulder, her face tucked into his cool, damp neck as they bobbed along. 

 

When they finally made moves to go ashore, Buffy lifted her head and swept her lips over his. Pressing her forehead to his, she said, “I love you, too. More than you know. And the stars are a beautiful, perfect surprise, but right now, I just want to be with you. Take me to bed?” He was the star in her heart, the one who lit the way through the darkness, the one who gave her hope no matter the season, and she never wanted to leave his arms. 

 

With a smile on his lips, he kissed her in reply and did as she asked.

 

The end.

7-6-2018  
11:28 PM


End file.
